Agapé
by Darknightdestiny
Summary: [Vincent x Tifa][Vincent POV] Because two can't be honest lovers and not be friends.
1. A Very Good Place to Start

**Agapē  
By Rachel "D" Winslow**

**A Very Good Place to Start**

**01**

I woke up with a slight disappointment, not quite remembering what I had been dreaming about when I got the call. I had that lingering feeling though, like I had been in the middle of something good, and I was loathe to be dragged from it. I sat up, disentangling myself from the strange mess of warm and cold satin, bangs falling in my face as I went. My left arm reached out of its own volition to grab my phone from the nightstand as my right hand rubbed the sleep from my eyes.

I glared at the neon orange lights which smirked at me from my bedside. Three in the morning? I flipped the damn thing open. "What," I snapped, a little too harshly, even for me, and not without a clearly tired sigh.

"...Hello? Um...Vincent?"

Ah, right. Probably dreaming about her. Did I say 'something good'? That feeling was no doubt premonition. "Tifa."

Her voice was breathy on the line, and I have to admit, I was fully expecting her next words. "...He's gone."

Every muscle in my body immediately softened on reflex. It was the one thing that had somehow allowed me to fall into this uncertain role, the one thing I had gambled my future on, knowing I was quite possibly wasting my time moving to Edge just to be near. Cloud's a flake, tossed easily here and there by his unstable emotions, and it never failed to bring out that weaker side of me that enjoyed feeling needed. I ran a hand through my now-short hair before switching the phone to my right side, flexing the digits of my false appendage distractedly. "Do you want to talk about it?" I knew my tone was muffled with sleep. I probably sounded bored to her.

A pause. "Can I come over?" She sure didn't waste time. These on and off breakdowns of hers were when I spent the most time with her, as she was much too busy when things seemed to be going her way. That was the problem; 'her way' didn't quite make her happy. And while I was much obliged to be with her for a few hours, no matter what the excuse, the feeling was dampened by the knowledge that he would no doubt return, and the cycle would start all over again.

Cloud would leave, Cloud would come back. Tifa was the only stable thing in his life, so of course he couldn't stay away forever. It wasn't perfect, and it never would be; neither one would ever be happy living that way, and everyone saw it but them. But part of me hoped that one day, she at least would see that she needed something more than the youth who would stop by every now and then, but never stick around indefinitely.

I have to admit, I couldn't see it ever working out between the two of them. He always returned emptier than when he left, expecting her to make him better, or at least return his glass to its half-empty state. When he came back, he would go straight to work again, burying himself in tasks so that he would forget how unhappy he was. And when he returned home, he would expect good food, a clean house, two children who were well taken care of, and a lucrative bar. Truly, he expected too much of her, especially if he wasn't willing to make her feel like anything she did mattered.

I'd even heard him joke over the phone to a complete stranger that his 'old lady gets to stay home all day'. And then he smiled over at her and winked. I could tell she didn't find it funny. It was days like those I wanted to beat some sense into him.

She and I had spent countless hours on the phone over the past couple of years, talking this through. She knew how I felt about it. I didn't have to try and tell her, 'I'm sure he'll be back,' anymore, because she'd come to realize as I had that, yes, he would be back. The question was more or less whether or not she would let him continue to piss all over everything when he returned. And I knew she would. He was her weakness.

I moved into the neighborhood anyway.

I had thought about all the places I might go, and while Gongaga seemed nice and tranquil, I couldn't deny that I'd been a city boy my entire life. I like being able to go out at four in the morning to get sushi if I want it. And after spending thirty years in an abandoned crypt with only ShinRa's skeletons to applaud my cynicism, I can't bring myself to fall asleep to silence. I nearly went insane camping outside with Avalanche, without the slow drone of the Highwind's engine to lull me to sweet oblivion.

In the end, it was a toss-up between Junon and Edge. The deciding factor? I was getting bored with life, bored with seclusion, bored with monotony. Who lived in Junon? No one I knew. Who lived in Edge? Tifa lived in Edge. Tifa with Cloud, but Tifa nonetheless.

I always liked Tifa.

Part of me just couldn't resist giving her a place to run to, somewhere to escape from her problems. Of course they came with her, but I didn't mind breaking them down with her and helping her sort them out. They tended to be the same problems, only re-hashed and more complicated each time, but after a while I had gotten quite good at it. She never did seem to be able to let go of him, and I knew the same burdens would keep coming back. And she would keep returning, and I would help to ward them off, and then she would go home and let them build up again.

"I just...need someone to talk to." Her voice cut through my muddled thoughts. How long had I been staring at my arm?

I glanced at the clock again. "Do you need a ride?"

"Actually..." she paused, hesitating. "I'm right outside."

I blinked once. Twice. "...Outside?" I threw the bedsheets off and to the side, mussing my hair again and stifling a yawn as my socks hit the wood floor. "How did you get here?" I walked over to my window as I pulled a tee-shirt on over my head and hung one silvery finger on the blinds, pressing one segment down to eye the walkway. I didn't see her coming up.

"Well, I went out front to think, and when I started thinking, I started walking...I just sort of ended up here." She clipped the sentence, like she might be biting her lip. We'd been doing this dance for a long time, and she still acted uncertain if ever she had a favor she needed from me.

"I can't see you from my window."

A quick expulsion of air, like she had been holding her breath. "I'm at your door."

I made my way to the tiny foyeur at the front of the apartment, undoing the latch on the door and letting her in. She brushed past me, through the living room, heading straight for the kitchen, hunting around my cabinets for a mug no doubt. Her timidness at my door had all but disappeared; she seemed quite undone and frazzled, once she had room to move about.

"Do you mind if I make myself some coffee?" I heard her ask from behind a curtain of hair as she busied herself, not waiting for my answer.

"Go right ahead," I waved my hand in the air dismissively and settled on the couch in the living room. I was preparing myself for the inevitable when I noticed something. I frowned, asking, "...Where are the kids?" Usually she came by during the day if she needed to talk, and the children were in the care of someone else.

"They're in bed. I left a note..." I heard her rummaging around in the silver drawer for a spoon, and I rose to my feet, walking over to lean against the counter. "Denzel's getting old enough to look after Marlene. Don't want to stay out too long, though..." she trailed off, grabbing a paper napkin from the holder on the counter and setting the spoon on top of it as she closed the microwave door. She pressed the buttons and four distinct beeps broke the strange silence that followed her words, yellow light revealing the spinning mug atop the turntable inside the machine. She opened the refrigerator and searched for the carton of milk. "He gets up sometimes in the middle of the night. Even though I left a note, he might not see it. I wouldn't want him to get scared if I wasn't there..."

"You remembered to lock up?" I crossed one foot over the other as I leaned, anticipating her answer.

"Of course I did," she replied casually, as she pulled the sugar jar from its hiding place behind the cooking wine. I couldn't help but smile to myself; she knew she was coming here. "Though like I said, I don't want to stay too long." The microwave beeped, signaling that her water was ready. "He's getting unpredictable," she said thoughtfully, "getting up to use the bathroom at all hours of the night. Maybe I should take him to a doctor..."

This time, my smirk showed on the outside, and I crossed my arms as she stirred the instant coffee grounds. I knew exactly what was happening to the poor boy. Puberty's a bitch, and that Cloud always did have an impeccable sense of timing. Note my sarcasm.

"I hope he doesn't have an infection," she mused, adding the sugar and milk. No, not an infection. Affliction, maybe. I'd tell her later, and let her talk it over with him.

She finished, and the spoon met the counter with an audible 'clack'. She had finally stopped moving and looked up at me, meeting my eyes for the first time that morning. Upon seeing the puffiness surrounding those fragile, red glass windows, I wasn't above cursing. "Shit..." I breathed.

"...Is it that bad?" she smiled softly, tears threatening to return. It really was, but I couldn't bring myself to say so directly; cursing was a rare thing for me, at least around the company I'd been keeping these days, and it spoke volumes. I uncrossed my ankles and walked over to her, arms down at my sides. She wiped furiously at her eyes before releasing a wan laugh, settling her forehead against my chest. I lifted my right hand to soothingly stroke her hair.

"When did he leave?"

"A couple of hours ago," she sniffed. "Hopped right out of bed and started getting dressed. I asked him where he was going, and he said he needed to clear his head." She huffed into my white tee-shirt, and I could feel the hot wetness soaking through. "I mean, you'd think he would have figured it out by now. But he left, just like that. Walked out the garage door, got on his bike and kept on going."

"...He could be back by morning." It was a futile attempt at consolation, and we both knew he would take longer than that. Still, I tried. "He might only have needed to get a breath of fresh air." I inwardly winced, realizing my error and hoping that it wouldn't offend her.

"Ha!" she pushed away from me, pacing frustratedly. "He does this all the time! Not a word about where he's going, just a vague explanation, and then he's off again!" Nice to find that she overlooked my own blunder. "Well, I've had it. I just can't do this anymore!" She went suddenly silent after that, slumped against the refrigerator, cradling her arms.

She and I both knew that she would take him back as soon as he appeared on her doorstep, or rather, used his key and walked into the house like nothing had happened. She was helpless when he was around, her entire demeanor changed, molded by her obsession, her wish for a happy life with him. She lied to herself when he came back, told herself everything would be different, that if she only did better for him, he wouldn't leave again.

I had been in a similar place. Hopeless and bitter when I was by myself, yet transformed in the presence of the very source of my pain. And Tifa, like myself, would run to that source if she knew where it lay. That is precisely why I spent so much time cave-dwelling. If I wanted peace, I needed Lucrecia herself to set me free. And Cloud...I felt he owed it to Tifa to do the same for her, rather than lead her on, letting her waste her life away on a hope that would never be realized.

Part of me couldn't help but feel he was leading _me_ on. But I put myself in this situation. I never learn from my mistakes, but I'm getting too old to give a damn about that, and now that I am beginning to age again, I can't - how does she put it? - dilly-dally. I believe I'm somewhere around thirty. I know what I want now, and I know who I want it with.

If only I could make her see that what she was experiencing, this bipolar sort of love, really wasn't love at all, but infatuation long after it has turned to resentment. Even I had come to learn that. Then again, it had taken me sixty years to learn that lesson, not to mention several punishments, all of which were quite unique, to my morbid fascination. Growing up was painfully slow for me, and still some things could never be beaten into me; I had to learn them for myself. And Tifa? She'll have to learn them for herself as well. I wish I could spare her that pain; she's barely an adult. Most people don't get serious about life until it's almost too late.

I tried the words, soft tone breaking through the afterwake of her sudden fit. "...What will you do?"

She shifted slightly, rolling her back against the appliance to face me. "I don't know," she sighed, honest eyes leaving mine to rest on the floor, where I could not follow. "But I can't do this."

I wished I could believe her. Instead I walked over to her and pulled her away from the refrigerator, wrapping her in a firm embrace. "If you need anything..." I bent to assure her ear, a little low for easy access. If I ever did gather the courage to kiss her, I would have to trick her into standing on something first.

"Be my strength?"

My eyes widened a bit as her words registered in my brain. That was quite a responsibility; she was asking an awful lot of me. But part of me - probably the part that, in hindsight of course, was most fascinated with some of my more ironic punishments, the part that analyzes literature and people by the same standards and imagines himself a player in a grand production - wanted to see how deep a hole I could dig myself and wondered where that hole might take me.

Just call me Ishmael.

"...What would you want me to do?"

She shook her head, long hair brushing my arms as she moved, and a pleasant apple scent invading my core. "I don't know. Just...remind me. Don't let me back down. If I call you, you'll come...right?"

"I will," I say, pulling away and looking at her, my arms still on her shoulders.

She blinked her eyes and looked at me, another indignant huff and bitter smirk tearing her gaze away as if she couldn't look me in the eye and say whatever she wanted to say. "This isn't normal, is it?" She rubbed at her eyes again. "I mean...normal girls don't just let their boyfriends leave for days on end without telling them where they're going..."

I frowned again, more over her state than what she was saying, but I agreed. "No, they don't."

She sighed. "I guess I'd better go..." She dropped her arms with shoulders slumped and turned to leave, my fingers gliding from her as she went. But a sudden boom of thunder stopped her, my windows rattling with the sound. I sighed, turning back for my keys.

"Come on...I'll drive you home."

**AN**: _This is not a one-shot. I'll post the next chapter when I know people like this. The title...may change. Writing from Vincent's perspective is fun. Don't tell me he's not in character just because the chapter isn't short; this is his mind rambling, not his mouth. As always, the review button is love :-)_


	2. The Ride Home

**02.**

**The Ride Home**

**(-Dirge of Cerberus Spoilers-) **

I leaned against the wall of the elevator, left knee bent slightly and my heel tapping against the metal every so often as we descended to the parking garage. In all honesty, I was dreadfully tired, and not at all looking forward to starting up the car and driving over to Tifa's place. I shifted, glancing over at the woman on my right through my long, disheveled bangs. She was leaned up against the corner of our little box, picking at something invisible in her hands.

Things had been going well for the two of them, for a little over a year. Then, not long after I'd found my own absolution, Cloud had suddenly decided that he hadn't done enough. Maybe one day he would come to terms with his ghosts, but for the time being, all I could do was watch Tifa suffer through his recurrent phases.

I sighed as the elevator landed, the doors opening to the garage. I pushed myself away from the wall and exited, scuffing my sandals against the pavement and the legs of my black warm-ups scuffing against each other with an unmistakable swishing sound as I walked. Tifa was quick to my side, her own sandals smacking against her feet as she hurried at an uneven pace.

She lifted her head to speak as we made our way down the row of cars. "Thank you...for taking me home." She smiled timidly. "And for listening to me ramble," she added, a guilty stain coloring her cheeks.

It wasn't really a problem. Tifa was a pleasant surprise at any time, no matter what the hour. Rather than tell her exactly that, I settled for a low, "Hmm."

The rain pounded heavily on the roof of the garage, and it echoed off the cement walls. "I know I can get a bit annoying, and I know I do this to you all the time..." she continued. "I don't know why I'm making excuses, really. You're probably sick and tired of my problems."

"It's fine," I replied, eyes on our destination as we crossed paths with the black luxury sedan. I've always been easily overcome by any promises of comfort, and a type-written description tacked to a shiny window is no exception, especially after sleeping in a coffin for thirty years. I pressed the button on the keyring in my palm, and heard the audible click of the locks, noting the blinking headlights with some satisfaction.

"...You really don't mind?" she asked me with raised eyebrows, just as she had asked me the time before, and the time before that. I led her around to the passenger side and opened the door for her, still of a mind that little gestures can carry a heavy weight.

I smirked at her as I shut the door, all hundred and twenty pounds of tank top and sweats tucked safely inside, with that ridiculously mismatched leather coat. "No."

The truth was, after all this time, I'd begun to look forward to it. I felt guilty about that, and kept telling myself that I wouldn't take any happiness from it. But it wasn't as if I was taking joy in her suffering; I couldn't be happy for her when she was so miserable, and I liked to think that my elation in seeing her at my door was because I was going to offer her some relief. Still, I berated myself for that feeling, and told myself that I needed to grow out of it.

I walked around to the driver's side and ducked into the car, removing my shoes before turning to face the wheel. With only one thick strap to cover the top of my foot and nothing else to hold them on, I viewed the things as more of a hazard than a help. Back in the comfort of my socks, I turned the key and pressed down on the brake before sliding the gears into reverse.

"You know, I missed you," she said, as we merged onto the main road. "I feel bad that I mostly come to you when I've got problems. I owe you for so much..."

I felt it was time to cut in, before she got carried away with guilt. It had been known to happen. "I told you it was nothing."

"No, it's not nothing!" she threw her head back in disbelief, arching her frustrated body against the black leather seat. Believe me, it took a lot of effort to listen to what she had to say, once I'd noticed _that_. She sighed, laying the backs of her palms against her thighs, clenching and unclenching her fists. "I should pay you back, somehow..." she finished, as she relaxed into the seat.

I smiled inwardly. "Your company is more than adequate compensation."

We came to a stoplight, and her head lulled to the side, facing me. "You know what I wish?" She paused, I suppose expecting my answer, but as I didn't give one she continued. "Sometimes I wish I could just sit and talk with you without having to worry about anything else. It would be nice to be free of responsibilities for once."

I nodded, waiting for the light to change. "...That would be nice." My eyes narrowed a bit as that smile started to inch onto my face.

"...Are you content living alone?"

That question had come out of nowhere. There was something else there, in her voice, that made me think she was really asking me if I thought she could do it herself. I wasn't quite sure what to say; I enjoyed having time to myself, but it wasn't what I wanted. The last thing I wanted to do was shove my own problems off on her, so I bit my lip, not helping the frown that was gathering above my eyes. "It's satisfactory. Although..." and I was surprised at my willingness to admit this, but if to anyone, it should be her, "it might be nice to have company in the apartment."

She stared at me quite intently for a minute. I didn't even have to look to know, because I could feel her eyes boring into my skull, and I knew the exact moment her gaze left me and flitted off to land on the floor of the car somewhere. "Can I ask you a question?" she asked, resting her right elbow up on the door and leaning on her hand.

"You just did," I responded, eyebrows raised and already in a lighter mood.

"It's kind of personal," she continued, ignoring my slight joke. Apparently, she was focused on whatever she needed to get out.

"Go on." The light turned green, my foot switched pedals, and we were back in motion.

I saw her bite her lip. "...How come you never hooked up with Shelke?"

I raised one eyebrow, caught somewhere between a frown and a laugh. It was true, I had gone to Cosmo Canyon with her for a short while, but there was a reason for that, and I made sure everyone knew what that reason was. There was nothing between us, at least on my end. To be honest, it sometimes hurt to look at her, knowing that she carried around fragments of my past, things I would like to forget. It was rather unnerving, having a stranger so close to my most personal moments, maybe even remembering things about myself that I no longer could, and that alone shouldn't endear her to me. But she had no one else to turn to, no one else she could identify with but myself. And when you find there is only one person in the world you can identify with, you begin to look to them to fulfill your other needs. But I didn't need to explain that to Tifa. She knew that as well as anyone.

I knew that a big part of why Tifa was drawn to Cloud was that he was the only person left alive that had shared her past. Should her memories ever get muddled, or should she need someone to reminisce with, he was the one person who could remember her father, their hometown, and what it was like growing up around the same neighborhood. They probably knew the same people, went to the same school, and enjoyed the same common pastimes of the children there, even if they weren't so close back then. And they had experienced the same loss. Losing Cloud would be like losing her only glimpse into a world she'd long forgotten, and Tifa was reluctant to let him go.

Her question was unexpected, but I supposed I could understand it, given the way Shelke had depended on me in the very beginning. Maybe Tifa wasn't interested, and she was only making conversation. Maybe she was honestly curious. Part of me hoped she was questioning my availability, though she should have realized by then that I had never once been unavailable to her, at least in any way she had dared to ask. It was strange behavior, and completely off the subject she had come to my apartment to discuss, but I knew she'd had a rough night, and I wasn't about to question her actions, no matter how odd they became.

I can't honestly say what Shelke had wanted from me, because I never knew. I think all she wanted was someone to show her what it was like to be human, but I'd worried that as she learned to feel human emotions again, she might confuse any remnants of Lucrecia's past for her own, mixing together feelings with false memories, much like Cloud had confused himself for Zack. Shelke was as lost as Cloud, and last I'd heard, she was still with Nanaki, sorting through old ShinRa 'medical reports'. I'd gone to help her for a matter of weeks, and she'd tried to lead a somewhat normal life outside of her research, but I needed to find a place to call my home. She was satisfied staying there, spending her time studying the planet, its lifestream, and its relation to those in the rest of the universe. I told her I would help her if she should feel the need to ask for it, and that was that. Every once in a while, she would call to let me know she was doing well, and if I hadn't heard from her in a while, I might call her up just to make sure she was alright.

She wasn't my responsibility, but I felt like I owed it to her sister to make sure she was taken care of, and not left alone completely. I'm not sure how much of that was genuine compassion or guilt. But I know, no matter which of the two it was, that the fact that Shalua had given up so much of herself to try and get her back played a major role in my initial act of taking her under my wing.

But it was never like what Tifa was asking about. I felt a bit protective of her, but every now and then I had to stop and ask myself if it was just because she reminded me of Lucrecia, and was the living shreds of her thoughts. And why did she remind me of Lucrecia? Because she acted like her at times, completely absorbed in whatever the task at hand was; her appetite for knowledge was insatiable, and so serious. And when she acted like her, a big part of that was because there were lingering pieces of the woman inside her. Lucrecia was the only example of a human life she could remember observing. It was far too difficult to sort out what was real and what wasn't, and to what extent an action was affected by a false memory.

No one knew who she really was, not even herself, so I couldn't just cast her aside, not at a time when I was the only one she felt she could talk to on a personal level. She was an innocent child once, had a past of her own, and didn't deserve to be treated like a storage disk, or someone else's shadow. But I couldn't bring myself to befriend a ghost, not when she should be able to have a life outside of Lucrecia's memories; there was nothing concrete there. When she finally understood herself, we might be able to have a normal friendship based on those identities of ours that actually did exist. But still, I didn't want anything romantic with her, and I still wouldn't, even if she were grown up. I'm not quite sure where Tifa got that idea.

I hoped she hadn't gotten the idea into her head that Shelke and I belonged together simply because we were both so far removed from the rest of humanity. I suspected that some of the others felt that way, and I can't say I wasn't offended. I had nothing against her personally, as far as friendship went, but I wasn't going to enter into a relationship with someone who was physically a child on the grounds that I could never be with anyone else. She's no less of a human, but there was still this "stick to your own kind" vibe emanating from a couple of people I knew, under the guise of innocent suggestion. I don't know; maybe they honestly believed we belonged together. Maybe they told themselves they really believed that. Because I sure didn't. And if Tifa of all people tried to nudge me toward her, I might as well put my gun to my head, because it would mean certain failure with the woman I did want.

Searching my mind for a sufficient analogy, I said the only thing I could really use to describe the situation. "That would be like Cloud dating Marlene." Though Cloud kept drifting in and out of Marlene's life without notice, I did not add. Was that correct? Maybe it wasn't the right analogy after all, though I did view myself as a sort of estranged caregiver for a short time. I immediately regretted mentioning Cloud in front of Tifa, after what she had been through.

"Sure, if Marlene was considerably older than she looked..." she trailed off, reminding me of that fact, glinting eyes poking around at my insides.

Considerably? I made a face, and she laughed. It was a rare sound in those days, to hear her musical voice engaged in such memorable song, but I enjoyed it thoroughly each time I heard it. No, Tifa, I have no wishes to feel like a pedophile. Thanks, but no thanks.

She seemed unfazed by her current troubles when she was joking around with me. I think the truth of the matter was that I had more of a distaste for his name than she did. It was obtrusive and unwelcome when I was alone with her, and I believe it was so because of how I felt about her, and had more to do with that part of me that was upset with the way he treated her. To her, it was routine, but I wouldn't settle for that. I saw then that it bothered me more than it bothered her.

"...That would be odd," I retorted, "not to mention frowned upon." She laughed again, amused at the discomfort I tried to rein in, and the mild disgust that clearly presented itself on my face as I finished with, "And I've never wanted her that way."

She held her hands up defensively, settling down a bit. "All right, don't get all offended on me. Besides...Barret and Cloud were the ones who thought they saw potential for you two."

Right. And Cloud is the relationship guru. I shot her a look that begged the question, 'How am I to not be offended by that?' It didn't matter how old she was; Shelke had the body of a ten-year-old, and any adult who can do such a thing has serious issues.

Tifa looked out at the rain pelting the windshield, growing in its intensity. "I've just...never seen you act so concerned about anyone like that before."

At least it wasn't the reason I'd feared. I raised my eyebrows, all mockery aside and a seriousness creeping back into my voice. "I'm concerned about you."

"I suppose," she sighed, eyes trailing the rivulets that were currently winding down the sides of the car. "...Why?"

Tifa was drawing a comparison...and was that disappointment in her voice? She had made it seem that if I went out of my way to help someone, then it must be because I cared deeply. I wondered what was going on in that head of hers; was she thinking that the way I'd treated her and Shelke was for the same reasons? Was she hoping that I would confirm that yes, I did think a lot of her if I was inclined to help her through her troubles? Was she worried that my lack of interest in Shelke proved a lack of interest in herself? Admittedly, even if I held no interest in Tifa, I would certainly help her if she asked me to, because I considered her a friend. And yet...

It was at that moment, at that slight disappointment I thought I heard in her voice, I was made to think that Tifa might actually feel something beyond friendship for me. I'd always enjoyed the time we spent together, our biting humor from time to time, like a gentle nipping at one another, a pinch of reality to wake us when we were down. I'd written her receptiveness to my light flirtation off to her friendly nature. But this was something slightly more tangible, if only a little. It seemed she was baiting me; maybe I was getting somewhere with this.

But maybe that was wishful thinking. "...Because I care."

She opened her mouth as if she was about to say something, but then shut it. "Thank you," she then said, with a hint of resignation. I was willing to bet that if there had been something there, her loyalty to Cloud prevented her from saying anything else, or from asking anything else for that matter.

That I could understand. Loyalty and love were separate things, but while one cannot have love without loyalty, it is possible to have loyalty without love. And sometimes, loyalty is the thing that can draw together a failing love. It was too bad that in her case, the loyalty was on her end only.

If I knew that there was any way they could salvage their relationship, I'd be faced with a choice. I could either tell her about my feelings and let her decide for herself, or I could keep my mouth shut and wonder about what might have been. And which would I choose? It didn't matter so much anymore; I was sure they would never work things out, and I was also sure that Tifa herself would never make the first move with me.

But for the time being, I was content in the knowledge that she seemed curious about where my heart lay.

I then noticed her arms coming around to hold herself.

"Are you comfortable?" I asked her, trying my best to keep my eyes on the road and defer my thoughts from the little circles they'd been running in.

Her head whipped around suddenly, as if she'd been in a bit of a daze. "Huh...?"

"You looked cold." I smirked, speeding through an orange light.

"Oh," she replied, still seeming distracted by her thoughts. "Yeah, a little, I guess." She rubbed her arms for added effect, or perhaps she was growing nervous. I couldn't really tell. Either way, I needed a subject change, and she needed a lighter mood.

I was already reaching for the knob on the console when it came to me. "Hungry?" I turned up the heat and flipped the radio on.

"Don't tell me you have food stuffed somewhere in here," she said with a wry grin.

"We're stopping," I said simply.

"You don't have to feed me," she quickly protested. "We're almost to the bar."

Tifa had always been fine taking advantage of my presence and my time, yet she would never let me do anything more for her. But I was going to pull over regardless, because I'd been woken up in the middle of the night, and when I get woken up in the middle of the night I get hungry. And I didn't feel like waiting until I got home to experiment with whatever was left in my refrigerator, as I was tired of the same old recipes.

And I felt like eating something hastily thrown together, then tossed under a heat lamp.

"You can do what you like, but I want a burger." I began scanning the roadside for possible stops. "There's an all-night diner and a fast-food place. Which do you prefer?"

She inched forward in her seat, shifting around beneath the lapbelt and trying to get a better view of the road. "Oh, I don't care. I'll just get something to drink..." Probably missing the coffee she'd left sitting in my kitchen.

"Decide."

"Oh-!" Her hands clutched the sides of the seat as we quickly came upon our destination. "I'm not eating. You decide."

"Fast food it is, then." Hungry as I was, I didn't want to sit across from her and eat while she sat there with nothing else to do but watch. I changed lanes at the last minute, effectively cutting off the person behind me, who then blew his horn loudly. Tifa clutched a hand to her chest, startled at the sound.

Hmm. I had thought we were the only ones out that night.

I peeled into the parking lot, settling under the flourescent lighting, bass reverberating in my bones. Whatever happened to decent music? The sounds coming from my stereo were repetitive drones. If I had to listen to that same beat over and over again, I was going to throw a bitch-fit. Rather than lose my cool in front of Tifa, I ran through my pre-programmed channels one by one.

"You're reckless, you know that?"

Telling one's girlfriend she should appreciate how he puts her above all the other women he keeps on the side is not my idea of romance.

"I mean, it's raining out here. You should at least use your mirrors."

The local rock channel was hosting a talk show. Was that a child? She shouldn't be having sex.

"Are you even listening to me?"

Her tone was more exasperated than angry. I tilted my head and stared her down blankly before shutting the stereo off, leaning back in my seat to enjoy the peaceful sound of the rain hitting the roof of the car. "...You were saying?"

I couldn't help but smile. I had heard her clearly, but she knew it wasn't worth repeating. "Oh, nevermind," she huffed, crossing her arms indignantly.

I took my foot off the brake and rolled slowly forward, approaching the speaker. "What do you want?"

She unfastened her belt and leaned over me, checking the selection. "Mmm...just a medium root beer," she said, returning to her seat and fishing some gil out of her coat pocket.

She handed it over to me, but I ignored the gesture.

"Here," she said, a bit forcefully, trying to get me to accept it.

I raised one eyebrow at her, smile playing at the corner of my mouth. "...I don't want that."

She frowned at me, then tossed it into the change tray. "So there," she muttered, facing forward again. Her stony look didn't last long however, and I caught her turning again to gauge my reaction. My eyes remained trained on her in expectation of another frustrated huff. "What?"

"Nothing," I grinned. She was fun to tease.

Minutes later, we were back on the road, I rearranging the contents of my food atop a rain-soaked paper sack while steering the car with my knees, and she looking at me like I had grown another head. "Vincent! What are you doing?"

I sucked the excess ketchup from my thumb. "What does it look like I am doing?" My lips twitched. "I'm eating."

"I meant with the car!"

"Ah. I am driving the car," I clipped, eyes narrowed, but I wore a teasing smile.

Tifa rolled her eyes, and I could tell she was nowhere near applauding my multi-tasking skills. "Is that what they teach you in Turk training?" she jibed, then sighed resignedly. "I would feel a lot better if you didn't drive like that...hey! Eyes on the road!"

"We're almost there."

"Still..."

My voice was deadpan, my brows raised in question. "Do you want to feed me?"

Tifa glared at me, but shut her mouth. I couldn't decide if I was happy with that, or if I'd rather she'd played along. Nevertheless, my feigned seriousness had stunned her into silence, and I wore a smugly satisfied grin for the last minute of the ride.

**AN: **_Whew! I addressed Shelke's significance without having a conniption; hooray me! And here I feared for the future of VinTif shippings the world over. I like the Zack-Cloud and Lucrecia-Shelke comparison, don't you? I hope I hit that on the head hard enough that it will stay down for the rest of the story. The way she addresses him by his full name all the time really creeps me out, too. She reminds me of that episode of Futurama where Frye copies Lucy Liu into a blank robot. And she says things like, "We'll be so happy together, PHILLIP J. FRYE."_

_Please do tell me what you thought about this. Was Vincent too giddy? Was Tifa too absent-minded? I want to know what you'd like to see more of. Next chapter, I'll explain a bit more about the title. Thanks to all who reviewed; I had five messages within the first hour of posting, sixteen messages in less than two days, and nearly every one of you put this little piece on alert! That's an amazing start, guys, and I'm excited about it! Those little notes of encouragement fuel my inspiration and are a great motivator, so keep 'em comin' in!_

_Chapter three coming soon, and another VinTif oneshot. _


	3. In My Head

**03**

**In My Head**

"Oh..."

Tifa put a hand to her forehead as I slowed to a stop in the street out front of Seventh Heaven, stray hairs lifted by her fingers. Clearly she had forgotten something, judging by her sudden alertness, and I wondered if it was a material object, and if she'd left it at my place. If that was the case, I hoped she wouldn't need it until the next day.

She turned towards me, apology written on her face. "I forgot to bring the remote for the garage door. I didn't really think I'd need it..."

That was all? Thank the gods it wasn't her keys. "You're going to get wet, then." I frowned thoughtfully. "...I don't keep an umbrella in my car, but I'll walk you to the door." I shifted around in my seat, reaching blindly into the back of the car for the sandals I'd tossed over my shoulder earlier. While the garage was around back, away from the public entrance, it was at least connected to the building, and pulling the car inside would have saved us from the rain.

"You want to come in?" she was quick to ask, nearly tripping over the words I'd just finished. She smiled brightly, most likely trying to ward of any objections of mine before I could process them. "You know you want to," she prodded. "I'll fix you up something nice."

I was about to tell her that I'd better not, that I was tired and needed to get back to bed. But I stopped myself short of doing just that. I knew that she needed the company. She never went out anymore; the entirety of her social life had died when Cloud had reverted back to his old patterns.

Tifa had gotten comfortable with calling me as soon as she'd discovered he was gone. I had told her once that she could call me at any time, and that I would listen to whatever she needed to get out, for however long she wanted. At first she refused to be a burden to me, waiting to call, asking if I was busy or had the time. Eventually it became an automatic response; she had gotten to the point where she needed it.

When she visited, it was in the middle of the day; Tifa never went out at night, because she wanted to be there when he returned, didn't want to find him asleep before she could welcome him home. If ever she was at my apartment during night hours, it was because he had left within a few hours of her call. After that, I wouldn't see her again until he returned, unless it was in the middle of the day, though we would talk over the phone often. Even then, when she was at my place, she didn't seem to want to stay for very long. She would look at the clock compulsively, and she'd developed a couple of nervous habits, such as the picking at something imaginary in her hands.

I would still tell her that he might return by morning, but we both knew that wasn't true. Like I said, it was a weak attempt at consolation; there was nothing saying that it was impossible that he might return by daybreak, but we both knew that he wouldn't. I would later come to regret saying such things, as it might have contributed to her obsessive and unhealthy behavior. Each time, I tried to fuel the hope that perhaps things might be different the next time around. But they never changed; life stayed the same for Tifa, day in and day out.

Cloud's reappearing act always took place in the middle of the night. He would sneak into their residence like a thief, after the children were already in bed. Tifa was usually up and waiting for him. She had been running on empty for a long time, and I was surprised - and relieved - to find she had an unnatural resilience; after all, she was still there. But she was quickly becoming a thin shell of the person she once was.

Tifa no longer went clubbing with Yuffie. She no longer went to the movies with Cid and Shera, something she had thoroughly enjoyed when Cloud had accompanied them. No, in the later hours of a Sunday night, one could find Denzel and Marlene already in bed, and Tifa would no doubt be sitting up, watching the clock, counting the unknown hours until Cloud would arrive home. Other nights she was already at the bar, working, and so it was no difficult task for her to remain by the front door once the busy night was over.

I couldn't begin to count the number of times I'd found her asleep in one of those booths in her dining area.

It had gotten so bad that her entire life hinged on where Cloud was and what he was doing. If anyone wanted to see her, they would have to go to the bar. I don't think she realized what it was that she was doing to herself, but I wanted, more than anything, to see her pull out of it and get better.

"Very well," I agreed, "I'll take you up on that." My hand found my shoes, and I placed them over my socks, which were bound to get just as soaked as the rest of my clothing. Our visit had been short, and I wasn't about to leave her alone if she was wanting for company, especially when she was enduring such hardships. While I was tired, Tifa's sanity was my priority.

Yes, somewhere along the line, I realized that Tifa herself had become my number one priority. Period. Seeing as Cloud appeared to be her number one priority, I was sure it would come back to bite me in the ass one day. But I preferred to put off thinking about that for as long as reality would allow me.

She opened her mouth to say something else, but I was out of the car and at her side before she had even gathered her soda up from the cup holder. She looked at me incredulously as I stood in the pouring rain, holding the door open for her, crumpled bag in my other hand. She didn't seem to want to budge, and I was getting rather chilled.

"I was going to suggest we sit here until the storm let up!"

I frowned, a look of feigned frustration coming over me. Raising an eyebrow, I asked, "Do you want to sit in the car?"

She hurriedly pushed herself up from the seat and I took her hand, pulling her up and shutting the car door behind her. We rushed to the front door, across the seemingly endless stretch of sidewalk, heavy droplets pelting us on our way, and we took shelter beneath the extended roof as she reached into her coat pocket for her keys. The familiar jangling sound broke me from the distraction of picking at the wet material that clung to my chest, skin showing through the white cotton, and I entered after her, the door swinging shut at my heels.

I was immediately chilled by the cold draft attacking from ceiling vents at both my sides. A shiver ran quickly up my spine, and I couldn't control the visible spasm that followed. Tifa slipped out of her shoes, shedding her leather jacket and tossing it into one of the booths near the front of the building, before walking around the side of the bar and flipping on the lights.

I held my left arm out, noting how the lights reflected off the silver plating. I'd seen it many times before, but I still found myself easily mesmorized by the way the light played over the metal. I'd gotten it replaced almost two years before, shortly after the mess with Omega. It was still a prosthesis, but at least it looked more like a hand. I usually wrapped the arm in tan sports tape when I left the house, but I didn't think it necessary just to drop Tifa home, so my metal arm was bare that night. A glove might have been easier to slip on and off, but I didn't like the way the material clung to my human hand, and if I wore one, I would have to wear both, or risk looking rather silly. Not to mention, the nude tone didn't stand out so much in a crowd as black or silver would.

"I'll get you something to wear," she said, breaking through my thoughts and heading towards the stairs. "You must be freezing." I could hear the tremor in her own voice, her lip quivering as she wrapped her arms about herself.

Tifa took the steps two at a time, and I shed my footwear, removing my socks and dropping them on top of the sandals by the door. My toes were a little numb from the cold, and when my bare feet crossed the wood floor toward the bar, the feeling was rather alien. I tossed the crumpled bag into the trash and grabbed one of the hand-towels from the end of the counter, wiping the beaded water from my nylon warm-ups. I had just seated myself on one of the stools, when Tifa came bounding down the stairs just as quickly as she'd disappeared. I noticed that she'd changed into a different pair of sweatpants, the first ones grey and these ones black. Her thin white tank-top had remained undamaged, guarded from the onslaught by her coat.

Was it wrong that I was slightly disappointed by that?

"Here," she said as she tossed a large, black tee-shirt to me. "It should be large enough; I usually sleep in that one, and it reaches the middle of my thighs." I examined the shirt I'd caught, holding it up to my chest. It seemed like a good fit. She gestured to the pants folded in her arm. "These are Cloud's, but I'm afraid they're probably too short..."

"I don't need them," I countered. "My pants have dried." I didn't want to wear anything belonging to Cloud; I didn't want him doing me any favors, and when I looked back on that night, I didn't want any reason to think about him.

"Oh. All right, then." Tifa smiled and tossed them down on the counter, walking behind the bar as I set the shirt on the stool and began to remove the one I was wearing. Tifa didn't watch me do this; she busied herself, idly turning the liquor bottles on the back wall so that the labels all faced the dining room. I wasn't sure if I should read anything into that, but it wasn't the sort of thing I would agonize over. "What would you like to drink?" she asked me, absently fingering the bottles on the shelf.

I sat back down on the stool, wet shirt in my hand. "...I'd like a gin and tonic."

She turned around, arms folded, smiling mischievously - I'd say flirtatiously, but as I mentioned, I had written her receptiveness to me off to her general friendliness - and her eyes narrowed at my choice. "That's so...bland. I'll take that..." She held her hand out, reaching for the shirt in my grasp. I handed it to her, and she took it from me. "I'll hang it up for you." She paused, examing it. "It's still warm..." she said, holding it to her face and smiling. "Hmm. Smells good, too. I'll go and let this dry; you think about what you want while I'm upstairs."

And think I did. I couldn't help wondering what that comment was all about. Why on earth did she have the sudden urge to hold a rain-soaked piece of clothing to her skin? Oh, right. It was warm. If she had wanted to absorb my body heat like that, I would have been happy to simply hold her for a few hours. Maybe when she got back, I would tell her that was what I really wanted.

Right.

As I was mulling over Tifa's strange behavior, I heard footsteps descending the wooden stairway. I turned my head in expectation of the woman I'd been thinking about; instead I found Denzel standing at the foot of the stairs.

"Vincent?" the boy yawned as he rubbed at his eyes.

"Hello," I replied, tilting my head in question. "It's very early. What are you doing up?"

His eyes scanned the room, but he only found myself. "Do you know where Cloud is?" He tugged at the hem of his blue pajama shirt distractedly.

"I must admit that I do not." I cradled my head in my hand on the counter. "Can I help you with something?"

"No..." He looked down at his feet, and then made to turn and walk back upstairs. Just then, I heard another set of feet on the solid planks.

"Denzel, what are you-?" Tifa's soft voice became louder as she reached the end of the stairway. "Oh, honey," she said as she placed soothing hands on both his shoulders, "why are you out of bed?" She guided his small body back towards the stairs, ready to take him back to his room. "Let's get you tucked back in."

"Tifa?" I interrupted, before she had the chance to pull him away. "Can I talk to you for a moment?"

"Huh?" She glanced at me over her shoulder, and her arms relaxed down to her sides. "Sure..."

I then directed my gaze to Denzel. "...Why don't you take Cloud's old room for the rest of the night?"

The boy nodded quietly, before running back up the stairs. I heard Cloud's door shut behind him after that, and I smiled at Tifa's confused expression.

"I will take that drink now," I said, meeting her eyes.

Tifa returned to the opposite side of the counter, eyeing me warily as she pulled a bottle of gin from the shelf. "Okay," she said, still in the dark. "You still want gin and tonic?"

"Yes," I replied, "with plenty of lime."

Tifa pulled a lime from the pan in the miniature refrigerator, and grabbed a knife from behind the bar. "You wanted to talk?" she asked, as she began carving up the lime.

"Yes." I leaned forward, watching her nimble fingers just barely escape the blade as she held the fruit still.

"What about?" she questioned, grabbing a short glass from the stacks in front of her, and pouring two fingers of gin into it.

I watched as she opened the ice bin and scooped a few cubes into the glass, grabbing a small bottle of pre-packaged tonic water from the back counter. "I do not believe that Denzel needs to see a doctor," I said, noting with some satisfaction the raised eyebrow she gave as she poured the soda into the mix. "He is merely going through a phase; he is growing up, Tifa."

She handed me the drink with a puzzled look, before handing me the wedges of lime she had cut. She blinked her eyes then, and a small grin ghosted over her mouth. "...Oh."

"He is probably miserable, sharing a room with Marlene," I added, bringing the glass to my lips. "You might want to let him use Cloud's old room, since he doesn't seem to be using it."

Tifa put her hands on her hips, a little insulted. "Well, why doesn't he come to me about it?"

I let out a low chuckle. "Most likely because you are a woman."

"Well it's not like Cloud's going to help him through it," she sighed, letting one arm fall to hit her hip. "He's never around..."

I frowned, studying my glass intently. "Tifa...I am sorry. You don't deserve this..."

"Yeah, well...what can you do, right?" She shrugged it off and smiled, but I could tell it was forced. Suddenly, that smile turned into a frighteningly false grin, and she perked up instantly. "Listen, I'm going to go to bed now. I'll give your shirt back soon; maybe I'll visit tomorrow or something." She replaced the bottle on the shelf. "Thanks for listening to me. I guess I'm just more tired than I thought I was."

I nodded. She did look weary, but I knew it wasn't because of that one night. She was weary of life, weary of trying, of wasting her time, investing in a happy ending that would never come. I finished my drink, and leaned over to set the glass in the sink behind the counter. "Goodnight, Tifa." She began walking me to the door, and I turned to look at her once we'd reached it, my eyebrows raised in question. "You won't hesitate to call if you need anything?"

"I'll call," she smiled. "Maybe even just to talk," she finished lamely. "No Cloud business. Wouldn't that be something?" She let out a defeated laugh.

I bent down to pick up my wet socks and shoved them into my pocket, stepping into the sandals and turning to hug her. I was again enveloped by the smell of fresh apple. "Take care of yourself, Tifa. Relax...get some rest, and try not to think about it, at least for the rest of tonight." I felt her return the embrace as her arms tightened around my torso. "And don't tell Denzel that I talked to you about him," I added as an afterthought. "You wouldn't want to risk embarrassing the boy further."

She nodded her head against my chest. "Again, thanks for everything."

I let her go, reaching out to trail down her arm, and I found myself linking my fleshly fingers with hers as I pulled away, our arms out before us. "It isn't a problem. Not at all," I reassured her, and then I let her fingers slip through mine, leaving the bar, hearing the click of the lock behind me, but not looking back.

The ride back to my apartment was uneventful. Without her conversation, the windshield wipers seemed so much louder than they had on the way over. Back and forth, back and forth; they were even worse than the radio. I would stop the car at an intersection, and the rain would seem to pick up as it beat down on the roof. I'd resume driving, and it would pass by quickly, needles pelting the car harder, but somehow less loudly than when I was sitting still.

Once inside the door to my apartment, I tossed my keys on the coffee table and made straight for the bedroom, stopping to empty Tifa's mug into the sink on my way. I lazily flipped the sandals from my feet into the open closet and pulled the socks from my pocket, balling them up and tossing them across the room to land in the laundry basket. They were soon followed by the rest of my clothing as I stripped down before putting on a pair of long, black silk pajama bottoms from the dresser drawer, and collapsing into bed.

A soft, orange glow filtered in from the hallway, where I kept a small light plugged into the electrical socket in case I felt like getting up for whatever reason. Shadows stretched their way up the walls of my room like the fingers of millions drowning in darkness. The tall lamp standing in the corner...my bedposts...a bottle of cologne sitting on my dresser.

I was going to have one hell of a time getting back to sleep. Already, I could see the sky was beginning to lighten through the cracks in my blinds, and I had gotten my second wind, being up as late as I had. That renewed burst of energy would easily carry me through the day and into the early evening, and then I would be craving sleep somewhere between six and eight o'clock at night if I didn't manage to get some rest that morning. Not like it would matter anyway. I wrote fictional stories for a popular magazine; I could keep any schedule I wished.

When I was younger, I had wanted to be a writer. I loved to read, and I would completely devour anything I could get my hands on, and I would pick it apart, identifying each element and intention. I thought about teaching older kids literature; my father wasn't very happy with that idea. Teachers didn't get paid very well, and being a self-employed writer was like having no job at all, he said. He had always told me that I should get a real job, and then write about that.

So I did.

The citizens of Edge loved reading my stories about stealth assassins, government conspiracies and mad science. The business class especially enjoyed them; they had boring lives as it was, and they needed a far more interesting escape than the coffee house. But it wasn't as if I was living in fame; I wrote under the pseudonym of Jake LeMarc.

Wouldn't want anyone to suspect that the stories were real, upon hearing my name. People tend to analyze an author by his writing. And should something happen to me, I didn't need a post-humous biography detailing any and every thing they could dig up about it. And I am sure the few people in my life wouldn't enjoy the public comparing them to characters some of them didn't even know I'd written.

I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling, hoping that the bore of a blank canvas itself might put me to sleep, but it did no such thing. I rolled over, staring blankly through the open door and into the bathroom at the other end of the hallway.

'How did I get here', I wondered, 'living in a city where my only attachment is a woman I can't even bring myself to be straightforward with? Since when did my closest friends and acquaintances consist of rag-tag misfits who hardly look like they belong together, instead of the stone-faced killers I used to know? What is it that puts me in the position to help someone else's children get through their problems? And since when have I ever been comfortable around children?'

It was on nights like these, when my thoughts turned towards such removed and isolated patterns, that I would converse with my demons. While the shifting beneath my skin had caused me uncontrollable pain and suffering, I actually missed their company from time to time. Talking with them drove away the silence, and kept me from going insane while I was in confinement.

Chaos was the most interesting of the bunch. He had an attitude, to put it mildly, but he was extremely intelligent. I could talk to him for hours, if not for the pain it sometimes caused me. But talking with my own demons never helped my problems much, as I was stubborn and never managed to sort things out, despite the company I kept. Once we really got into it, he would start to sound different in my head, and then, should he want to continue speaking to me, I had no choice but to listen. And eventually his reasoning would come full-circle and then repeat itself throughout the night.

Most of the time, he sounded like myself. Other times, he sounded like Hojo, or even Veld. And sometimes, he sounded like my father. It all depended on the nature of what he had to say, or if he was only reminding me of something one of them had already said, long before he'd set up camp in my skull. Sometimes it was difficult to distinguish his thoughts from my own, hard to tell whether it was him, my own mind, or my memories of their voices that answered my ponderings. Chaos was not without a sense of irony, drawing on my experiences from time to time, and I won't deny that much of my darker sense of humor developed under his watch. Hindsight is always crystal clear, after all. Those memories echoed in my head long after, and I could sometimes hear their voices still, though my body had been emptied of the demon.

Yes, talking with the demons in my head kept me from going crazy, while contributing to it all the same. It sounds rather laughable, as any normal person would have remarked that I was already there. Honestly, would having slept in a coffin for thirty years have been considered any more sane if I hadn't been talking to ghouls and goblins the entire time?

Hmph.

None of that mattered anymore, because Chaos no longer kept me company. And every now and then, I would fill in the gaps myself, imagining what he would say, and smirking to myself all alone in the dark. Sometimes I forgot that I was all alone, and in the beginning, I actually doubted every now and then that they had really gone. I amused myself to no end with this for hours. But it helped me get to sleep at night.

Somehow though, it felt more crazy when I knew that I was the only one talking back, even moreso than when Tifa had caught me talking with Chaos on the Highwind. That had been...interesting, to say the very least.

I think that was when I'd started to like her, if only on a superficial level back then. I have to admit, I revelled in the look she wore. A lovely marriage of fear and fascination, if ever I saw one. And I still remember the look Hellmasker had tempted me to give her in response. I wondered, 'Would I be here, living in the same city and spending time together with her, if I had done that? Or would she have never spoken to me again?'

But of course, no one answered back. It was only me, myself and I. At least I had plenty of fodder for my columns. Never had a writer's block, not with everything I'd been through. Yes, I was my own greatest inspiration.

Correction; second greatest inspiration.

I suddenly realized with odd humor that I had been counting the tiles on the bathroom wall and gathering them into patterns for at least ten minutes. I most certainly was mad. I pulled the sheets up around my neck and turned onto my stomach, letting my arms come around to hold the pillow and burying my face in it. Perhaps that would stave off the growing light outside, just long enough so that I might fall asleep.


	4. Speaking of Sex

**04**

**Speaking of Sex**

"What's in that?"

"...Lime, butter, tomato..." I counted them off with a wave of my wrist. "A little honey to balance out the acidity..."

"Sounds good," she said, smiling next to me. "Smells even better." She leaned in, getting a whiff of the sauce, and I was hard pressed not to shift close enough to get a whiff of her. Gods forbid she think I was looking down her shirt, although I knew I wouldn't be able to stop myself from glancing. Just a bit.

I cleared my throat as she righted herself, releasing the hair from her hand to fall back down around her shoulders. "You want to taste it?"

"Oh!" she grinned. "Yeah, sure."

I dipped the short, silver spoon into the pan, bringing it away, my artificial hand cupped beneath it. I'd wrapped it up today, since I was cooking, knowing there would be no way to tell if the metal had absorbed the heat I was working with, unless I were to test it on something. And the last thing I wanted to do was burn my company. I could, of course, keep an eye on it like I did my other hand, but having an artificial limb makes moving hot pans to the sink, not to mention tossing the ingredients within, rather convenient.

She pulled her hair back again, winding it around her neck and letting it settle over her right shoulder. She leaned over, and I pulled back a little. "It's hot..."

"Okay," she said. "Thanks for the warning."

She stepped up with mouth parted, wrapping her fingers over mine and steadying the spoon. I relaxed my hand and let her guide the utensil to her mouth. Her lashes fell over her eyes as she blew on the sauce, cooling it before she sipped from the spoon. I was so caught up in watching her perfect pout that I had to remind myself to regain my hold on the spoon, lest it clatter to the floor when she let go.

I found myself experiencing a sudden rush of heat. Maybe if I moved away from the stove...

"Good?" I smiled a little, brows raised.

She grinned back. "Very good. I think it will go well."

I shrugged and began stirring at the sauce again. "I'd thought about putting mustard seasoning in it, but I didn't think it would go well with the tomato. If we were having poultry, I might have swapped the two."

"Well, I think it's delicious." She placed a hand on my back as I stirred, and when I felt her fingers trailing away, I couldn't help but glance over my shoulder at her. She was facing the back of the house, where the bedroom was. "...Can I use your bathroom? I want to freshen up before dinner."

I nodded, my eyes back to the stove. "You know where it is."

"Thanks."

Tifa left me alone in the kitchen, thinking of ways to let dinner pass without incident. After only two weeks, I was unable to concentrate on anything else but her. The time until Cloud would make his next appearance seemed to grow ever longer, and I found myself silently cursing him for not being the man she needed, nevermind that I would have given anything to be in his place. My thoughts were consumed with visions of the two of us together, so much that I could not sleep, and I'd developed a terrible author's block. I was losing my composure and my writing abilities, and the only alternative I could think of was to channel the situation into my work, perhaps write it into a story, though I believed it would have to be an entire series if it were to keep me occupied for longer than a week. If I didn't find myself another way of dealing with my emotions, I would be cutting my budget short.

I was interrupted by the sound of unrestrained laughter coming from the open bathroom.

A small smile edged its way onto my face. "You alright in there?"

I heard her footsteps approaching from behind, the muffled clicking of heels against the wood grain of the floor. "Vincent, you don't have a baby."

...I knew that. What? ...Oh...

My worst fears were realized as I turned to see Tifa's face peeking out from my bedroom doorway, one hand leaning on the frame and a small bottle of baby oil dangling precariously from the fingers of the other. She raised one eyebrow at me, giving me a knowing, teasing smile. "...What would a bachelor need with baby oil, I wonder?"

I felt a blush creeping up the back of my neck, but I managed a hardly menacing scowl in her direction, my lips terse and my brows knit together. I'm not sure what that had looked like; I was flustered at the time, to say the very least.

She ignored my displeasure and continued to tease, overstepping the bounds of friendly conversation. "You know, I'm curious. What do you think about?"

Was that a real question? I turned the knobs in front of the gas burners to the off position and leaned my side against the refrigerator, crossing my guarded arms. "Nothing, really." I tried to look as indifferent as possible, tried to meet her eyes without wavering, but I couldn't bring myself to do it and resorted to fumbling around in the cabinets for something to plate the food.

"You mean there's nothing you focus on at all, nothing that helps you get the job done?" Her question was skeptical, and I could imagine her face as she tilted it upward, winking evilly at my back. I hadn't meant to leave that in plain sight; I was always so careful when she visited not to embarrass myself by any means. I tried my best to be the epitome of a gentleman; I'd even taken to wearing cologne in her presence. Did she realise how cruel she was being?

"...Just the feeling, I suppose." I was shocked at myself, but I justified my boldness with the notion that she wouldn't have believed a simple 'no'. Only five o'clock in the evening and I had already learned something about myself; I was a stone-faced liar still. Nevermind that she shouldn't have been asking me for an explanation on such matters. Nevermind that the honest answer would have been, 'I think about you.' Of course, that was how it would start, just focusing on the pleasure I felt, but how could my thoughts not eventually stray to her when it was she who inspired the urge? I could tell her so...if I never wanted to see her again. I mustered enough courage to glance over at her as I fished the snapper out of the pan, and with the words on the tip of my tongue, I felt my cool and collected mask slip back into place. "Are you finished?"

"Ah..." She sucked in her bottom lip, turning halfway back into the room. It was then that I noticed the blush staining her skin.

"...Because dinner is ready."

"Sure...I'll be right out." With a quick twirl of her hair she was gone, and I was left to contemplate.

I was a small bit smug at my recovery, not to mention my refusal to state outright any offense I had taken. Was she trying consciously to fluster me? The pink tinge to her cheeks had me wondering if she had known all along what she was doing. And I wondered what her intentions were. What exactly was the answer she was trying to get out of me? Or was she only trying to tease, not thinking things through?

Would she have teased Cid in the same way? I stopped to think on that. Yuffie would have jumped at the opportunity, and while Tifa wasn't comparable to Yuffie, I couldn't blame her. She might have done the same to any of her other friends. But why was she blushing like that? I wasn't sure if I should be offended at the idea that she might be uncomfortable joking with me, or hopeful that it might mean something else. It wasn't as if I would have bitten her head off. I finally decided that I shouldn't read too much into it, lest I drive myself insane.

I brought the two plates of filets and steamed vegetables out to the living room, setting them on the coffee table. I'd never bothered to buy a traditional dining table, as it was only myself living there. Stepping back into the kitchen, I grabbed two glasses and a bottle of white wine I'd bought for the occassion. When I'd again reached the living room, Tifa was just returning from the bathroom. I heard her stop in the kitchen, most likely expecting to see me, and then abruptly turn on her heels and head out to the living room to join me as I poured the wine.

She sat down next to me, inhaling the aroma of the food and the subtle hints of pear and peaches that permeated the drink. "It's lovely, Vincent. Thank you." She rearranged her knee-length hem and took her plate in hand.

"I apologize for the inconvenience," I said with all sincerity. "I've never thought about getting a dining room set."

She dismissed the apology with a wave of her hand. "That's fine. It doesn't matter, as long as company's good." She smiled, sliding her fork into the filet and sectioning off a bite which she lifted to her mouth and tasted. I waited for her reaction, and I wasn't disappointed when she turned to me with a grin. "It's good," she said. "Tender, moist, and the sauce fits it nicely." She breathed in the scent of the wine, swirling it around in her glass before tasting it. "Mmm," she sighed as she set the glass back onto the table. "Speaking of sex..."

I nearly spit out my wine; I opted instead to swallow hastily as I choked, in effect burning the insides of my nose with the spirit. What now?

"...I need to ask your opinion on something."

Anything but that. I was a good friend, probably the best she'd ever had, but I didn't think I could bring myself to listen to her talk about being with Cloud. To say it rubbed me in entirely the wrong way was an understatement, but to be presented with a clear idea of what went on was asking too much. But I had to look over, had to see those expectant and trusting eyes trained on my face as if I was the only confidant she had in the world. I cursed inwardly. I briefly wondered why she couldn't call Yuffie up to talk about such things, but I realised that it was probably the sort of thing she wanted to keep extremely quiet. If I referred her to the girl, she might just spend her time with me making long-distance phone calls; to my place for company and to Wutai for chat. No matter how desperately I wanted to brush her request off, I felt it was important that I keep my status in her life. "...Yes?"

"Do you think Cloud would cheat on me?" She looked suddenly very serious, and her eyes nearly bore holes into mine, searching for any indication that I might lie to her in order to make her feel better about what she had asked me. That's usually how advice works; one cannot avoid the temptation to lessen a blow to the other's ego, so he often uses sugarcoated words and agrees with his friend's every protest. I had to admire her courage.

I started cautiously. "When did you start thinking about this?"

"Well..." She set her plate down then, locking her fingers together in her lap and studying her hands as she talked. "...he's always gone, and so detatched when he's around. I keep thinking, 'What if he meets a girl while he's out there?' Vincent, what if he meets a girl that reminds him of her?'" She lifted her eyes, and I saw palpable fear in them.

I sighed, trying to think of where to begin with that. Cloud didn't strike me as purposefully manipulative, or as the type of man who would have a casual tryst with someone he had just met out on the road, especially if he was in a serious relationship. But it had become painfully clear to Tifa, as it was to the rest of us, that he wasn't all that serious about her, and as she watched that part of her life fall apart, I understood her concerns. "...If I had a girlfriend who did the same..."

"No!" She cut me off. "It has to be me!" I saw the tears beginning in the corners of her eyes and heard the waver deep in her throat. "I'm there for him whenever he needs me, but it's just too easy, it comes so naturally to him to walk all over it with a smile!" Her breathing became frantic as she forced her words. "...No one would do this to you. You're too giving, too wonderful. No one could walk all over you like this. Maybe I'm not nice enough...maybe I'm not good enough..."

I felt my throat tighten and my brows knit together with worry. "Tifa..."

"He's so...so distant." She began to choke on her sobs as she wiped angrily at her eyes, and I felt my heart being crushed under the weight of her cries. "It's like I'm home base, but his life is...out there..." She waved her hand out in front of her, body shaking violently. In an effort to calm her, I reached out for her and wrapped her in my arms, holding her close.

"Shhh..." I soothed, my embrace tightening as I rocked her softly, running my hand through her hair as my chin came to settle on top of her head. "Everything is going to be okay," I murmured, drawing on my inner strength for the both of us, angry at him for leaving her like this.

"No it's not," she laughed, a bitter explosion into my chest, a thousand tiny needles quickly worming their way through my flesh. I felt her tears soaking through to my skin as she clung to the dress shirt I wore, salty droplets staining the olive an even darker shade of green. "Do you know..." she sniffed, muffled voice soft against me, "...we haven't slept together in over half a year?"

I'm sure I looked puzzled at that. "...I thought you two were sharing a room."

I felt her nod under my chin. "Yeah. We do."

"Then..."

"He falls into bed, he rolls out of bed. There's nothing sexual about it. He..." She turned her head to the side, and I could hear her clearly as she stared absently out into the room. "...he just turns over and falls asleep with his back to me. Sometimes he would give me a kiss on the cheek, but he doesn't even do that anymore." Her shuddering body slowed in my grasp as she managed to work her way through the conversation.

I rubbed reassuring circles on her back. "I'm sorry, Tifa..."

"Yeah, me too," she sighed. "I didn't mean to break down on you like that."

I smiled down at her, even though she couldn't see. "...You can break down on me anytime you wish."

She shifted her head out from beneath mine to look up at me. "Thanks. You're a real friend."

...Ouch.

"Oh look, your shirt's a mess..."

It was, but it didn't matter. In light of Tifa's problems, the state of my shirt could hardly compare. "It's alright," I said. "There are more important things to think about." I paused, my arms settling loosely around her. "...What are you going to do about this?"

"I don't know," she admitted, her head falling back to my chest. "I mean, we never really even talked about what we were, if we were anything, but as far as monogamy goes..."

I cupped her cheek, guiding her to face me. "You mean you never asked?"

"I'd always just assumed..." she trailed off, eyes coming to a rest on the table, at a loss for any reasonable explanation.

She wasn't going to like what I was about to say, but I felt I needed to say it just the same. "If I were you...I would get a blood test done."

Tifa jerked up in my arms instantly. Clearly, she had only thought about the emotional aspects of her failing relationship, and hadn't even considered the other dangers of being with someone she couldn't trust. "You think...oh, I don't know..."

"It wouldn't necessarily tell you anything about his behavior, assuming it came up clean, but you would know that you were healthy at the very least."

She appeared to be mulling it over in her head, but I saw the fear behind her eyes, and it was cemented when I heard her say, "I'm not sure I want to know..." She turned her head away from me again, even seeming ashamed at her admonition.

"Tifa..." I craned my neck, searching out her eyes until she was subdued. "You need to know. If it bothers you...then I will go with you."

Her face softened at my offer, and I could have sworn I saw the beginnings of a grateful smile. "...What, you'll hold my hand?"

I tilted my head in an attempt to strengthen a resolve in her with my own small smile. "I'll get tested as well."

She raised one eyebrow at me, and I knew the question she held before she even spoke it. "...I didn't know you kept any girlfriends..."

I grinned at her skepticism, and I even let a small chuckle escape. "I haven't. Not in decades. But, if it will make you feel better..."

Her smile returned in full force, and there was something else there - relief, was it? I could only hope - along with a growing playfulness. "I was about to say..." she prodded, "why haven't you introduced me?" She hit me lightly on the shoulder and backed out of my arms, relaxing against the soft cushions of the couch.

"...I'll set up an appointment for Monday," I said with a firmness in my voice, not giving her a chance to back down and ignoring the uncomfortable idea of Tifa wanting to be introduced to an alternative lady friend. "The clinics won't be open on Sunday, so make sure you have someone to watch the bar. I'll come and pick you up...and we'll go together."

She whipped her head around quickly, as something dawned on her. "I didn't tell you Yuffie was coming to stay with me, did I?"

I shook my head slowly. "No...you failed to mention that."

"Oh," she smiled. "She's coming by to give me a bit of a break with the kids. I'm putting her up in the loft with Marlene. I'm sure she'd be happy to watch the bar for me."

I gave her a doubtful look.

"She's actually quite good," she laughed. "You'll see."

"Be sure to count the till."

She punched me in the arm again. "That's not very nice."

"Just an observation," I said, shrugging.

"Anyways," she said, now beaming in contrast with her earlier episode, "thank you. For everything." She leaned forward, nearly climbing over my legs - to my unexpected delight - to plant a kiss on my cheek, before settling back to finish her cooled dinner.

"...I can heat that up for you," I said, taking my own plate back into the kitchen to heat for a half a minute in the microwave, not really caring that it wouldn't be quite as good that way.

She rose from the couch, straightening her dress. "That'd be nice of you," she replied, bringing her plate as she followed me in.

I slid her plate onto the turntable and closed the window. She braced the heels of her hands against the countertop, blissfully unaware that her upper arms were pushing her breasts out of their confines. I tried my best to think of something else to fill the empty space between us.

"You're so good to me," she sighed.

And then it came to me. "Tifa..."

"Mmm?" Her curious eyes found mine in the artificial glow of the electric heat.

"...Should you and Cloud need to go your separate ways...what would happen to the children?"

Tifa started at my question, but she paused instead to think, turning her eyes to the soft light coming from the machine. "Well..." she began, "...Marlene is Barret's daughter, and he's always left her in my care, so I don't need to worry about her. And Denzel..." She almost looked apologetic, but there was a small smile inching onto her face, and I had to wonder why.

"...Yes?"

"Technically, I'm his only guardian."

I shouldn't have been surprised, really; caring for the children had always been Tifa's responsibility. But I believed Cloud had been the one to find him. "I had thought..." I began, but I was interrupted by the beeping of the microwave. I opened the door and handed Tifa's plate to her, and she took it with a soft 'Thank you' and picked her fork back up from the counter.

"He showed up in the church," she explained, knowing what I had been thinking about. "He really looks up to Cloud, and for a while, I thought we could be a family..." She frowned. "But I wanted to make it legal. I told him when and where to meet me, but he never showed..." She took a bite of zucchini while I waited for the rest of her story, swallowing before she continued. "I was so angry I only put my name on the papers. I've felt bad about it since then, but looking back...it probably was the smart choice."

I raised my eyebrow at her as I put my plate in and set the time.

She sighed. "I know Denzel looks up to Cloud. But a little boy needs a place to call home. And Cloud...he's a wanderer. Denzel can't live on Cloud's memories, can't be fed or driven by his self-centered passions. He needs a bed to sleep in at night, and good food, and warm clothes." She took a sip from my wine, having left hers out on the table. "I'd let Cloud see him whenever he wanted, but I think even Cloud would agree with me that Denzel needs a mother, and he can't give him that. Even if Cloud only spent his time delivering packages instead of running all over the planet for his own inexplicable reasons, who would look after Denzel when he was away? He's growing up so fast, and he needs guidance."

"...I agree," I said thoughtfully, processing her words.

"I know Denzel looks up to Cloud, but...he can't depend on him. I hate to have him finally realise this, but I think he already knows. And Cloud's absence has really hurt him. He was his hero..."

I could see the hurt she was feeling for the boy. I believe that part of her had known the day she signed those papers that she couldn't count on Cloud. And her suspicions about his more recent activities only proved it. She couldn't trust Cloud, not even in the beginning.

And that changed everything.

_**AN: **Gah. That's my second masturbation reference in a week. I'm going to have to stop that._

_Sorry for the delay. I had planned on having this up earlier, but I've been feeling rather nasty the past couple of days. I can't remember feeling this bad in...well, ever. I must be dying._

_This entire 'testing' business...isn't going to be as cheesy as it sounds. It's going to set the major conflict in motion. And...put yourself in Tifa's place. Scary, isn't it? I suddenly feel compelled to do the whole public service announcement schpeal. So...you sexually active people...yeah. Every so often. Get thee to a nunnery - I mean clinic.  
_

_Please do review. And I need to know...1) Who is still reading? 2) Am I moving them along too quickly? 3) Do I need to change the rating? and 4) If I change the rating, will I lose some of you?_

_Your pleasant words feed my soul. And while you're waiting for chapter five, go and subscribe to my C2. You won't regret it._

_Thanks for reading!_


	5. Just a Feeling

**05**

**Just a Feeling**

The sun was shining through the white clouds when I pulled up in front of Seventh Heaven, though the wind was harsh and cold. The warmth of the pale rays did nothing to ease the stinging in my face as the air nipped at my skin and penetrated my clothing, stifling my breath. It was all I could do to keep from running hastily to the heavy wooden doors of Tifa's bar in a most undignified manner.

When I'd pushed the lumbering weight aside, I was enveloped in the most pleasant and welcoming heat. I brought my hands together in front of my mouth, blowing warmth into the cupped hollow as I glanced around the bar. Marlene was sitting at the counter, the entire weight of her tiny body teetering on her knees and elbows as she leaned over the bar. I couldn't help but think the scene would make an excellent black and white photograph. Maybe I could convince my editors to put her on the cover of the magazine.

There was a distinct clinking of glasses behind the bar top, but the source of the sound could not be seen. I had fully expected it to be Tifa, and I nearly jumped out of my skin when Yuffie popped up from behind the counter, a wildly triumphant grin on her face as she held up two bottles, one filled with a blue syrupy mixture and the other with white. "Found them!" She set them down on the counter in front of Marlene just as she caught my eye. "Hiya, Vince!" she waved, before turning around to grab two spouts from the shelf behind her. "Tifa will be down in a minute," she offered as she unscrewed the caps from the bottles and began attaching the spouts.

I nodded.

"Have a seat," she grinned, scooping some ice chips from the bin and portioning them equally into two blenders. She beamed excitedly at Marlene. "Are you ready?"

The little girl nodded, wearing an anticipatory grin, and I had to wonder what the ninja had in store.

Yuffie abruptly grasped at the first bottle overhandedly, flinging it in the air and catching its base mid-flip on the back of her outstretched left hand, her fingers splayed underneath the glass, forming a safety net. She winked at Marlene and grabbed the other bottle with her right hand, releasing it in the air and pirouetting twice before catching it and moving seamlessly into a juggling act.

Marlene clapped her hands gleefully. I was, I have to admit, stunned.

Yuffie continued to toss the bottles into the air, switching hands back and forth several times before she threw one higher into the air, followed by the other. The first she caught on her chin; the second she caught atop her bent left elbow. I felt a smile tugging at my mouth as Marlene cheered her on, captivated by the elder girl's show. Yuffie reached up with her right hand to claim the bottle from her chin, and she let her careful composure break into a silly grin as her left hand shot down from its perch by her ear in a lightning-quick maneuver to catch the neck of the bottle before it shattered on the floor.

"Wow! That was amazing..." Marlene said, as Yuffie poured the contents of each bottle into the separate blenders, a satisfied grin stretching from one ear to the other. "Where did you learn to do that?" the little girl asked.

Yuffie set the bottles down on the counter and wiggled her fingers at the child, her eyes narrowed in a mischievous smirk. "Not just for shuriken," she whispered darkly. She placed the tops on the machines, hitting the respective buttons and sending the devices' contents into a flurry.

I tilted my head, leaning my chin into my hand as I propped my elbow on the counter. "That was quite impressive," I remarked, and honestly so.

"Well," she said, shoving her bangs from her face, "Tifa and I talked about her letting me represent the bar at competition next year."

"Oh?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Yes," she returned, stopping the blenders and grabbing a pilsner glass from the overhanging racks. She twisted the two blenders from their bases and poured their contents simultaneously into the glass, swirling white and blue together. When she was finished, she plucked one of the wide straws from a stein on the counter and dunked it in the glass, handing it to Marlene. "There ya go! My own version of a Pain in the A-"

I gave her a pointed look.

"-Butt."

"Hmm," I marveled, my face carefully painted into a look of casual observation. "That must be your specialty."

Yuffie leaned over the counter and covered Marlene's ears with her hands, the younger girl not even seeming to care as she was happily sipping at her drink. "You're the only ass here, Valentine."

"...Isn't a Pain in the Ass made with strawberry?"

"That's why I said _my_ version," she huffed, feigning annoyance. "Marlene likes blueberry," she finished haughtily as she removed her hands from the little girl's ears. "And there's no rum in it either, obviously."

"Mm-hmm," Marlene agreed happily, unaware of any other remarks. "Blueberries are my favorite."

"Plus it's not as much fun when it doesn't stain your tongue," Yuffie added, tapping the girl on the nose as she put the bottles back on the shelf.

"That's right," Marlene grinned, looking at me. "Here!" she cried out, fishing around in the pocket of her skirt. "I have something for you."

I blinked. "...For me?"

"Uh-huh," she grinned, holding out her fist. "Give me your hand."

I was reluctant, but I did so anyway. She placed her small fist in my open palm and closed my fingers around what felt like a few marbles, before she hopped down to the floor and disappeared up the stairs with the pineapple-coconut-blueberry concoction. After she was gone, I opened my hand to find a sticky, melted mess of candy, and...was that lint? I grimaced, grabbing a napkin from the holder on the counter and folding the warm globular object inside it, wiping my hand as I wrapped the paper shut with clear disdain.

Yuffie ventured to lift a corner of the napkin I then discarded on the bar top, laughter descending upon her when she realised what had happened. "Oh gods, that's cute."

"Hmm...I suppose it's the thought that counts," I said, clenching and unclenching my fist to feel the residue clinging to my skin.

"Come around here," she motioned. "You can use the sink."

I made my way around the counter while she deposited the napkin in the trash. She must have noticed me carefully trying to roll up the left creme-colored sleeve of my turtleneck sweater with the unaffected fingertips of my smaller two fingers, because I heard her stifle a laugh as she formed her next insult.

"Geez, Vince. Careful with that shirt of yours. Wouldn't want you to ruin it now; it looks...quite expensive," she finished, mocking my usual tone.

"Quite," I smirked, having been successful in my attempts as I began to wash the multi-colored sugar coating off my palms.

Yuffie leaned against the counter, glaring at me with a smile on her face. "You're a pompous prick all the way, aren't you?"

I grinned, shutting off the water when I was finished. "I wouldn't want to disappoint," I quipped, drying my hands with a paper towel from the nearby dispenser.

"No, you wouldn't, would you?" she sighed, hopping up to sit on the counter and swinging her feet idly. "...You know, Tifa's really worried."

I walked back around the counter, leaning my elbows up, my hands folded against my chin. "She's in a bad position," I answered. "It's understandable that she be afraid."

Yuffie tilted her head back to stare at the ceiling. "She never told me. Not until this morning..."

I raised an eyebrow at that.

"She said you were coming over," she continued, turning her head to look at me over her shoulder. "She wanted me to watch the bar, and when I asked her what was up, everything just came pouring out of her. She's really scared. Like, really, _really_ scared. I mean, I had no idea things were this bad," she finished, hanging her head.

I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying not to think of what I'd do to Cloud if Tifa was sick. "I had anticipated her fear...she said at first that she didn't want to know. But I told her she needed to find out."

Yuffie hopped off the counter and faced me with a sad sort of smile. "Better safe than sorry, right?"

"...Yes." My hand returned to rest on the counter.

She then fixed me with a sober look, the playful demeanor completely erased. "...Seriously, though...you're a really nice guy, Vince."

Hmm. I must have looked doubtful, because the next instant she was holding up her hands in defensive protest.

"No, really! I mean it..." She crossed her arms in front of her, turning to stare at the bottles on the back shelf. "You know, if Tifa had ended up with someone like you...she'd probably be happy right now."

Our discussion was interrupted by the sound of footsteps on the wooden staircase growing ever nearer. Tifa came into view, unbound hair swishing about the hem of her dark sienna sweater-shirt. Already I could detect the nervous twitch behind her smile, and I cursed Cloud once more.

She turned towards the bar as she pulled a black leather jacket over her clothing. "Thanks for watching the bar for me," she told Yuffie, before bending to tie the long laces of her black knee-high boots. There was something so charmingly youthful about her appearance that day, but I could see the weariness in her eyes. She probably hadn't slept all night.

"It's not a problem," the ninja replied. "Hey," she said, tilting her head in a mindful gesture. "Everything's going to be fine. You'll see..."

"Thanks," Tifa said, smile unconvincing. She then turned to me. "Oh! I'll be right back," she said, disappearing up the stairs once more.

"And if it's not, I'll kick Cloud's ass..." I heard Yuffie mumble, finishing her previous statement.

I grimaced at the thought, but tried to think positively nonetheless. Even if it turned out he had been unfaithful, even if he had given her something, many of the possibilities were curable, right?

I heard the clatter of Tifa's boots on the stairway once more, and when she emerged, she rushed towards the door. "Come on," she said as her steps carried her just out of my reach, tresses barely touching my back as they whipped about her form in passing. "Let's get this over with."

"...Let's. It was...nice talking with you," I said to Yuffie as I followed.

She bid me farewell with a smile. "Thanks for taking her."

As I closed the car door behind Tifa, a knot of dread began to slowly form in the pit of my stomach. It seemed the closer we got to the clinic, the worse my thoughts on the matter. As I rounded the car and sat myself in the driver's seat, I couldn't help but agree with Yuffie. If there was anything wrong with Tifa, Cloud was going to pay. I wondered how she would handle it; I wondered how I would handle it. I'd probably try to kill him. And I had to wonder how she would handle the news that she didn't have anything at all; while that was preferable, it wasn't a clear answer as to whether or not he had been with anyone else. If that were the case, would she just ask him? I somehow doubted that she would be that straightforward.

As we drifted through traffic, I couldn't help but take notice of the heavy silence that settled over us. I glanced sideways at Tifa's still form; she was staring out the window again, and I didn't have to see the whole of her face to tell that her brow was set lower than usual in worry. Her knees were set stiffly together, and her left hand was clutching at the fabric of her splotchy skirt, colors that reminded me of autumn leaves. Her right hand was curled up near her mouth, and she was busily gnawing on her nails.

"...So what did you go back for?"

"Huh?" She turned to me, I suspected happy to have something else to think about.

"Upstairs. You ran up to get something. What was it?" My eyes shifted amongst the cars several feet ahead of us, flitting every now and then to my rearview mirror.

"Oh. Nothing much," she said, returning to the window. "Just something for my hair."

"Ah." The silence returned even more uncomfortably as I'd already disturbed it once before, and I felt compelled to give her the opportunity to vent her frustrations. "...Care to share your thoughts?"

She sighed heavily through her nose, and I knew I'd struck a chord. I was fully aware that she was apprehensive about the appointment, but I figured that if she were able to talk about it, her fear might be lessened. "Vincent...I'm terrified." She lowered her eyes to where her boots rested on the floor of the car. "I don't know what I'd do if-"

"-Don't think about it." My eyebrows creased as I braced myself against the morbid thoughts and frightening questions that begged to finish her sentence. "You can think about it after you've found out. But until then...don't worry." I saw the lost expression in her eyes as she raised her head to look out the front windshield at the cloudy sky. "You're doing the right thing," I said, trying to tear my gaze from her dejected appearance long enough to get the both of us to the office in one piece.

It was a moment before she gathered enough courage to ask her next question, and when she did, it was shaky at best. "And then? If it's bad?"

"...Then I'll be here." I tried to keep my voice as calm and steady as possible as I reached out and laid my right hand over her left. It was a gesture I never would have been so liberal with five years ago, but I'd attained a level of comfort around Tifa that I hadn't had with anyone else since I'd been awakened. I still wouldn't have done the same for any of the other members of our mismatched group, save for maybe Marlene, or possibly Shera. I saw the woman so rarely that I was still leaving early impressions on her, and I could make her believe I was whomever I wished. Even when I would visit with Cid, she made herself scarce, and I'd never had the occassion for much conversation with her. And yet, there was always something different about holding Tifa's hand; it went beyond wanting to comfort a friend in need, beyond the sparks of even the physical attraction I had for her. In that moment, I felt it was the first step in lifting her above all the troubles she had encountered, and her face told me that she was truly grateful.

There were several more moments of silence. And then... "I wonder if I would have worried about this as much if he hadn't stopped touching me."

...her real frustrations came out.

"I mean, then I might have never even suspected it. And then what? What if he is?"

My eyebrows shot up and I opened my mouth, but she wasn't finished.

"Am I not enough? Am I just not what he wants at all? Did he just get sick of seeing my face every day? The only time he even acknowledges me, it's practically routine. I know sex isn't everything, but...gods, it feels so terrible to have someone show a complete lack of interest, especially when they used to be so close. I mean, the sex was mechanical and terrible in the end..."

'Overshare,' I couldn't help thinking. Wait...the end? I'd have to ask about that later.

"...but it was the only thing I had left that let me feel close to him anymore."

That I understood. I'd been there, and it was a terrible feeling. I remembered that was how things were just before Lucrecia broke things off with me, right around the time of my father's death. To watch your relationship fail and not be able to do anything about it is a most hollow experience.

"Maybe I'm just no good at it."

I gave her hand a gentle squeeze, trying to cut her off from travelling down that path and staving off my temptation to respond with the telling, 'That's not possible.' Instead I settled for the more vague, "That's probably not the case."

"No, you're right," she sighed. "It's got to be more than that. It's just...not there anymore. It's dead..."

It sounded strange to hear her finally admit that out loud to herself. And indeed, her voice had trailed away as if she were talking to no one but herself, before it picked up with a more energetic question that I knew was directed at me.

"But people have relationships without sex all the time, right?"

Back to denial, was it? While what she said was true, I was of the firm belief that, while sex wasn't the most important part of a relationship, it was important. Her optimism was otherworldly. "Sex isn't everything," I offered warily, "but it's definitely something." I paused, trying to find the right words. "There's something ultimately significant about the unconditional love and trust required for the total surrender of yourself to another human being...when you get to the point where you can read another's soul through their body, there are no secrets. Nakedness is...complete nakedness. Not just the body is bare; when the clothes come off, every other barrier is removed as well." Where had that come from?

I didn't hear anything after that, and I looked at Tifa from the corner of my eye. She was studying me in such a way that I felt she was trying to read me, as if she was looking for the source of my words. I hoped to high heaven she wasn't thinking about Lucrecia.

I hadn't had that with Lucrecia, not even once. I hadn't had that ever. In fact, I doubted even a handful of people would ever get to experience such a thing in their lifetime, especially given the current state of sex. That was one thing I had come to loathe about the world to which I had awoken. Such things were...cheapened...in my absence. No, if I had shared a transcendent bond with Lucrecia, then despite our faults, it would never have gotten to the point where she was able to turn away and unwilling to fight for us. Rather, guilt won out over all, and she so easily gave herself to another in its stead. Of course, to be fair, it hurt to look at me. Yes...she'd actually said that. But she had always been easily distracted by other things; I could never hold her attention for very long.

Tifa tilted her head in question. "Are you speaking from experience?"

So she _was_ thinking about her; after all, she was the only experience Tifa was privy to. "No. I've never been so lucky."

She eyed me skeptically. "Your idea seems to be pretty solid."

"It's just a feeling I have." The inspiration for which was...

"...I've never had that either."

...precious Tifa. "You will, one day." I removed my hand from hers and returned it to the wheel.

"Doubtful," she scoffed.

Well no, not with Cloud. Not the way things were going. And I couldn't tell her that he probably did love her in the best way he knew how, because he'd already proven that he was capable of an undying devotion and relentless pursuit. There was more to his love; he just wasn't going to give it to her. "Maybe you'll find it with someone else."

"Maybe..." she sighed.

I wasn't going to compare myself to Cloud, and I didn't want Tifa comparing herself to Lucrecia, or thinking about her at all, really. It was an unsettling position, and I didn't want those thoughts to push her away. I didn't want her to measure me by my past, either. I just wanted to move on...

And I was forgetting again that Tifa and I weren't actually _in_ a relationship. That might have been a useful first step.

The rest of the ride was silent.

_**AN: **In case you couldn't tell, my opinions on sex are...very strong. This chapter was originally going to be longer, but I felt the need to split it up and go into more detail on the next section. This entire story will probably end up being longer than I had planned. It was going to be around ten to twelve chapters, but I keep thinking of things I want to shove in between. So the plans change...a bit. I had finished this part this morning, but I wanted to post it tonight. From now on, expect my updates to be at 9PM Eastern time. Why so specific? I don't know, really. I have a feeling that timing is everything when it comes to yielding results. And I believe traffic is heavier at night, so I can maybe hook new VinTifa fans before the update becomes "old news". Which, interestingly enough, only takes about 24 hours._

_I've been feeling under the weather lately, and there have also been a lot of lightning storms, what with the tropical storms out there, so I've not had a consistent presence online. That should change, hopefully, unless a hurricane comes in and destroys my computer. This should have been my inspiration to buy a laptop... Stupid Florida. I really, really love this weather, but it gets in the way of life sometimes. Or my lack of a life. Whichever._

_Vincent's comment might give you a sort of idea where I might take this fic...once I feel the need to change the rating. The fic itself is not about sex, it is important that you realise. It's about spiritual love...which does not come automatically. That is why I feel the need to express a spiritual understanding about sex, as well as an understanding about a lot of other things, as you will see.  
_

_Oh, and please review!_


	6. Waiting

**06**

**Waiting**

The waiting room was extremely crowded. We had been waiting there for almost a half an hour already, despite my having made appointments. They hadn't had two at the same time, so I'd settled for them being within fifteen minutes of each other. When I informed Tifa of this, she greeted me with a wide-eyed stare, and she made me promise to wait for her to finish before finding out my results, should I go first. I then explained to her that we wouldn't be finding them out that day; we would have to wait at least three weeks before we would know.

...That did not go over well.

She sat to my left, leather shifting under her folded arms as she held herself closely, eyes still darting around the facility. The place was rather large, a community center, but the testing was free and reliable. I watched her inspect every one of the several people in the room, not to mention in the hallway on our left. She was doing everything in her power to occupy her mind without looking at the television screen that sat above us, which so happened to be showing a documentary on sexually transmitted diseases. Her legs were crossed tightly, and her foot was tapping impatiently against the metal leg of the chair in front of her.

"What's taking so long?" she wondered aloud. One would surmise from her reaction that there was something imminent to worry about; she sounded full well terrified.

I sighed, flipping idly through a pamphlet on heart health. "It's nothing," I murmured. "They have a lot of people here, that's all."

"I want to get this over with," she muttered, readjusting her arms. I felt the shift in the air and knew she was looking up at me. "I'm still nervous."

"...I know." I turned to face her, drinking in her jittery expression. It was shameful that she should be in this postion. She was young and able, not to mention my favorite person in the entire world. So strong...so relentless and sacrificing. "Don't be. It will be over soon."

As if in answer to my cue, there was a tired voice over the intercom. "Mr. Valentine, please go to window five. Mr. Valentine to window five."

I frowned. "Come with me," I said, taking her hand while gathering our paperwork and leading her to the front desk, just outside the hallway where the six stations were set.

We approached the receptionist, who was picking at her nails when we reached the desk. She then proceeded to grab a standard form and scribble on it while we waiting, seemingly not taking any notice of us at all. I waited a full two minutes before clearing my throat.

"Can I help you?" Her face said she was more than a little annoyed.

My eyes narrowed at her in an attempt to show my equal annoyance without seeming outright nasty. "Yes. I am Mr. Valentine."

"Fifth cubicle," she waved, returning to picking at her nails while avoiding any eye contact with us.

"That's fine, but she's going first. This is Miss Lockhart." I pulled Tifa in front of myself with a hold as firm as my voice was then. "Would you please switch our appointments?"

Tifa looked up at me in confusion. "Vincent...?"

"You'll thank me for it later," I said, placing her papers in front of the woman. "Besides," and here my lips twitched in amusement, "if I leave you here, you might back out."

My efforts were rewarded with a glare. "Says you," she muttered, crossing her arms again. I could tell, though, that she wasn't really upset with me. And I knew that the sooner it was over, the sooner she would feel better, if only a little. The next few weeks would be hell for her, and I wasn't looking forward to it either, but at least she had control over the first step.

"Very well," the receptionist answered, picking Tifa's papers up from the desk. "Miss Lockhart," she wearily drawled, "to window five."

Tifa took a deep breath and turned back to me. "Where should I wait for you?"

"Wherever you end up when the testing's done. I'm sure I'll end up in the same place." I rested a hand on her shoulder and nodded toward the hallway. "...Be brave."

"...Right." She flashed me that familiar, hollow smile. "I've been through worse before..." She stood there for a minute, probably waiting for some other reassurance from me. I couldn't think of anything to add to that, so I merely agreed.

"Yes, you have. Now...off you go."

She nodded back at me, and then walked away, taking her seat down the hall. I watched her for a moment before returning to the waiting area, shuffling through the magazines in the rack for something to read while I awaited my turn.

I ended up walking away with an outdoorsman's magazine, something that reminded me oddly enough of Cid. It was either that, or materials directed mainly towards women, the offending article titles immediately deterring me in any case. I wasn't really interested in my choice either; I soon discovered that even the hunting articles weren't that interesting, and I rested the magazine on the seat next to me and turned to more serious thoughts.

I was worried about her. I hoped to high heaven that she was alright; if she wasn't, I didn't know how I was going to help her. There was no doubt in my mind that if things turned out badly, she would be scarred for life. She probably wouldn't trust another man ever again; this in turn made me wonder if she would stagnate and accept his apologies blindly rather than risk being hurt by yet another person. But I promised myself then and there, that no matter what happened, I would be there for her. Cloud didn't seem to give a damn, but I...

I _wanted_ to be with her. All the time.

And I realised then that if something were very wrong, if she couldn't be helped...then I would stay by her side, even if I never got to experience that closeness with her. Even if she stayed with him because she thought she could never be with anyone else given her condition, I would still be there for her, in whatever way she needed me. I didn't want anyone else.

Though in a way I had just chained myself to her fate, admitting that it was what I wanted somehow lifted a weight from my shoulders. I wasn't ready to give up hope, however, but I had to avoid the thought that my peace would no doubt be disrupted as soon as I saw Cloud again.

It wasn't long before I was called, and I took my place amongst the next row of victims. The woman sitting across from me asked me for my personal information several times; I couldn't understand why she didn't just refer to the fields she had already filled out on her computer. I was becoming quickly annoyed with her, and agitated at having to repeat myself over and over. And she talked to me very slowly, as if that would really help in clarifying the meaning of anything she said.

Damn bureaucrats.

That was over soon enough, and I was sent around the corner for a urine sample, and then to a social worker, carrying a folder with a bunch of barcoded labels the first woman had printed out with my name and some tracking numbers on them. I had no choice but to put my trust in the system, though I suppose I preferred that it was somewhat in my hands for the moment. Carrying the labels around and watching them tape them to my information for myself was a bit of a comfort; it eased the worry that they might mix up my results with someone else's, and I am sure it did the same for Tifa.

The worker asked me several personal questions, such as how many people I'd been with, if I was in the habit of using protection, if I kept to one gender, and so on. While she took my vitals, she asked me if I had any symptoms, or if I suspected anything was wrong with me. I told her no, and then as she pulled one of the labels from the folder and placed it in the corner of my papers, she asked me idly why I had gone in for testing.

"...I am here for a friend," I replied dismissively.

She quirked an eyebrow as she straightened the sticker, dragging me back into conversation. "He's scared, eh?"

"_She_..." I replied, shifting around on the table, "is terrified."

"Ah," she smiled wryly. "There's someone she doesn't trust."

"Exactly." I slid from my perch to take the folder from her outstretched hand. I was almost to the door when I heard her raspy voice calling to me as she was busily scribbling on a notepad.

"So why isn't she with someone else? You seem like a nice guy," she mused, trailing off before her tone suddenly perked up for the afterthought, "And why isn't he here?"

I turned around, mouth open, but the words never came to me. 'Never tried,' 'How I wish,' 'He's never here,' and 'She loves him despite,' were answers not simplistic enough to offer to a complete stranger. So I closed my mouth, before venturing to speak once again, settling for a passing "I don't know," and a defeated shrug she never saw from her vantage point above her work as I headed out into yet another waiting area.

I had just set myself down in the chair when one of the nurses called me into the next room. I followed him in, and he led me to another chair on that side of the room, beset by a tray of needles and syringes. I made myself as comfortable as possible and began looking around the room for a distraction as I felt firm, cool hands position my right arm on the armrest and wrap a powdered latex strap tightly around my bicep.

As I felt the small pinch delve deeper through the tissue in my arm, I saw Tifa walk in through another door, removing her jacket and rolling up one sleeve. She sat in the chair opposite me. Though several feet across the room, I caught the smile that graced her face when she had settled in and seen that I was there with her.

She turned away and watched anxiously as the nurse assigned to her readied the equipment; I saw her bite her lip and cross her ankles, and I didn't miss the slight lift in her tightly met knees as she braced herself against the needle. I heard a click and felt a tugging in my vein, and I glanced over to see the man next to me changing my vials. I lifted my head again to look at her, calling to her from across the room. "Just look at me."

Tifa watched me until she felt the sharp prick on her skin, and I saw her wince. I suspected it was even worse under scrutiny. "You know," she said, "I feel silly. I can kill a man with my bare hands."

The attendant raised his head, chuckling out loud. "Is that a threat?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Maybe," she replied, tilting her head a little. But she broke into a full grin when he only laughed in response, and I felt another smile coming to my lips. I was glad she had a knack for warming up to people; it made things all the more easy.

I felt the needle slip out of my arm, and a forceful thumb pressed a folded strip of gauze to the dip in my elbow, wrapping first-aid tape around it. I stayed to watch him label the vials - call me paranoid if you wish - before walking back out into the hallway, same bright folder in hand, a walking advertisement. I felt rather strange about it at that point, wanting to accuse the nurses of laziness in making us carry the paperwork around under our arms, but it was probably the safest way to make sure the right information was in the right file by the time it reached the last nurse.

Still, though I knew I was clean, there was that small militaristic bit left in me that was accustomed to strict regimen and demanded perfection when it came to a job, and I felt the need to check up on other's work where it concerned me. That probably reflected some sort of hidden insecurity of mine, seeing as while I was paranoid concerning the attendant's competence, I still hated the bureaucrats working the computers.

I waited for her, once I was out and had managed to peel away the shoddy bandage and throw it in the wastebasket; she bounded over to where I was leaning against the wall, flipping through the papers in my folder. I straightened up as she approached with her smile, clearly feeling better about the entire ordeal. Maybe she had been with amiable attendants. Maybe it was relief at nearly being through with it. For some reason, the feeling I got when she gave me that smile made me like to think I had something to do with it.

I started down the corridor, and she fell into step beside me rather quickly. "We're not done," she said, not quite a question, head swiveling around quickly to catch a glimpse of a wall hanging as her feet carried her past.

"No."

She met my eyes again, and after a few moments, I faced forward, knowing I'd already studied her for too long. "What else are they going to do?"

"I imagine there will be a physical exam." I checked her reaction; she was clearly uncomfortable with the idea, but she didn't say anything.

We took our seats in the next room, both avoiding the television, which was set to the same broadcast as the one we'd seen earlier. I leaned back, resting my eyes for a moment until I heard the sound of leather and felt a slight brush of hair next to me. I peeked at Tifa, who was leaned forward in her seat, peering around the adjacent hallways.

"Ah! There it is," she said triumphantly, standing up and plopping her folder down next to me. "I'm going to the ladies' room. Probably a good idea," she joked darkly, a wry smile spreading across her face. "If they call me, will you tell them I'll be right back?" I nodded, and she left, her retreating walk turning into a hurried trot, no doubt spurred on by her nerves.

I hadn't seen a restroom since the main lobby earlier, and I somehow found humor in the choice of location.

I watched her go, before my eyes wandered back to the room and I took in my surroundings. Bright plastic chairs, waxy artificial plants, waxy floors; they all shone glaringly under flourescent lighting. I felt very out of sorts in such a widely communal place; I was glad when she returned, and even moreso when they called my name within a minute of hers.

The physical exam was nothing I was looking forward to, and it was humiliating, to say the least. I know what comes to mind when I say that, but no. It was worse than that. I never imagined that a medical professional - and a graying female, to my extreme discomfort - would condone putting something as simplistic and crude as the head of a cotton swab - a rather large cotton swab, might I add - in an orifice so painfully small. Nature had never intended for anything to go in there, and I swear I felt a prickling behind my eyes. To make matters worse, she did it twice and smiled sweetly at me as I walked away, my information clutched tightly in her hands.

I found Tifa waiting at the door that would lead us through the reception area and back to the main entrance. She was clutching a blue slip and a small brown paper bag. Those two things they had sent with us; a paper that bore a matching label to our material and the date we could return to find what the outcomes were, and a few condoms. Our little goodie bags. Hmm. I had no use for those, and I nearly told the nurse so, but realised that my presence in the office itself contradicted that statement, so I pocketed them wordlessly, having all but forgotten about them. Seeing Tifa after that, however, reminded me that I needed to talk to her about something.

She smiled at me when she saw me, but it faltered a bit when she noticed how slowly I was walking. "Are you okay?" she asked, coming to meet me halfway.

"Just sore." I gave her a half-smile as we walked out together. "I'll be fine in a few minutes."

"Oh...mine didn't hurt at all," she said, giving me a sympathetic wince.

I huffed, feeling more than a little emasculated. "You're lucky you are female."

She then raised her eyebrows at me in a questioning look, shoving two fingers in the air and mimicking a prostate exam with an evil grin. I glared at her, my mouth terse with slight resentment, biting off my reply.

"No."

She looked surprised. "No?"

"...No."

"What did they do to you?"

"Not talking about it." I shook my head. "But I hope you appreciate it."

She hooked her arm around mine, the humor placed aside for later. "I do appreciate it. Thank you for coming with me, Vincent."

The automatic doors slid open and we were met with a burst of cold autumn wind. I sighed as we made our way to the car. "You're welcome." Her arms came up to pull her jacket closed as she walked to the passenger's side and waited for me to unlock the door. "At least it's over, right?" I comforted as I pushed the button in my hand.

Tifa moved towards the car, letting the open door shield her from the wind. She turned slightly to look at me as she rested her idle fingers on the top of the frame, and her smile began to fade, replaced by a growing look of slow realisation. "Right...now it's just a waiting game..." she murmered, seemingly in an aside to herself, though she was looking at me.

She ducked inside the car and I shut the door behind her, thinking on her words as I entered from the other side. The worst part was yet to come; I didn't want her worrying herself over the next few weeks, but I somehow knew that no matter how much time I spent with her or what distractions I offered her, that was where her mind would be.

As I turned the heat up and started the ignition, I remembered what I had wanted to say. "Tifa?"

"Yes?"

I hesitated a moment, but my concern for her well-being won out against the part of me that was unsure whether or not it was my place to say such things. "I want you to make me a promise."

"What's that?" I had her full attention.

"...Promise me..." I was serious as hell, and it didn't help that the items on her person could be likened to a loaded gun. "Promise me that you won't sleep with him again..."

She tilted her head, processing my words.

"...unless he hands you a clean bill of health." Part of me wanted to hold that last bit back, knowing how their sex life had caused her emotional heartache and not wanting to find her right back where she started. There was an equal part of me that also wanted to leave it out for personal reasons, but I knew that if I left my request unfinished, it would sound rather strange, not to mention presumptuous. I had no business asking Tifa not to sleep with her boyfriend for personal reasons; she wasn't mine, and we were both aware of that.

But that didn't mean it wasn't painful to think about. "...Oh."

"Tifa, promise me." She hadn't had sex in over half a year. That didn't mean he hadn't.

She gave me a soft smile and relaxed into the leather. "...I promise."

I grimaced, facing forward to check my mirrors before we pulled out. "Good girl," I murmured as I slung my arm over the shoulder of her seat and backed out of the parking lot. From the way things sounded, I didn't have anything to worry about. But if Cloud had a sudden shift in behavior...

I believed in Tifa's honesty, but I only hoped her resolve could match it.

_**AN: **I know the site will be down for a while on Sept. 3rd, but if you're able to read and unable to review, please do return later with your thoughts. They are highly appreciated, and I enjoy knowing that you are reading something I fashioned and liking it._

_Next chapter things will really start to pick up. Hang in there...we're about half of the way through. The second half will get pretty intense, so stick around! You'll enjoy it..._

_DnD_


	7. Dumbshit

**07**

**Dumbshit**

I wasn't in the brightest of moods when his call came, but I suppose I was feeling bright enough to warrant the straightening of my apartment rather than laying in bed all afternoon. I was uninspired - really it was only that I couldn't seem to tear my mind away from my only excitement - and had nothing planned for the day, so it was either clean the place up or stare off into space and daydream for hours on end.

The apartment wasn't going to clean itself, and I was up anyway.

I trudged over to the blinking technology on my dresser, bright blue lights casting a glare on the varnished wood in the darkness of closed blinds. I could feel the grimy bleach-water from the sopping rag I carried dripping through my fingers, and I held the offending mass at arm's length over the tile of the bathroom floor as I stood just outside the open door.

My false arm darted out to snatch the phone from the dresser in aggravation, and I flipped it open single-handedly, not bothering to check who it was that had called. My ambiguous greeting did little to hide my irritation. "Yes?"

"Vincent! How've you been?" Cid was undeterred by my harsh tone, and his easy joviality pushed me over the edge. My shoulders slumped as I turned on my heel and walked back into the bathroom, resigned to the old man - who had done nothing to deserve my bad mood - and tossing down my rag. The heavy material landed with a loud splat followed by a sickly squishing noise as the pungent moisture drained from the cloth.

"...Cleaning." I leaned over the sink in frustration, frowning at the blue soap stains that had marbleized on my bathroom counter. "...You?"

"Fine, just fine. Mm." I heard him exhale. Probably sitting at the kitchen table with his feet up on the wood as per usual. "An' how's Tifa?"

I straightened up, cradling the phone in the crook of my neck as I washed my hands. "...Why don't you ask her yourself?"

"Put her on, then."

I turned the water off, inspecting my pale, yellowish skin in the mirror as I dried my hands. I needed to spend more time outside. "...What?"

"She's with you, ain't she?"

"No." I furrowed my brow, wondering how Cid had acquired this knowledge. "Why?" I asked, side-stepping the clothes littering the floor of my room and returning to the kitchen.

"I called the bar and Yuffie answered. Said she was with you." He sounded skeptical, if not a bit knowing.

"Did she now," I mused half-heartedly, winding a napkin into a makeshift wedge and digging into the joints of my left hand, wiping away any water I might have missed.

"Yeah. She also said any time Tifa wasn' at the bar, it was a good bet she was with you."

"Hmm." I lifted the lid from the pot of boiling water on the stove and salted it. "She said that?"

"Mm-hmm. Sounded happy 'bout it too."

"...Happy?" I idly flipped the package of pasta over in my hand, watching boredly.

"Like a school-girl." Oh, he knew. Thanks, Yuffie. Damn ninja and her big mouth...

"Huh." I opened the box and emptied the noodles into the pot, stirring them in and turning the dial beneath the sauce-pan to 'low'.

"So you're sayin' she's not with you?"

"...I already dropped her off."

I heard him take a rather long drag, and I knew he was preparing for something. "Vince, what are you doing?"

"Pasta," I replied blankly, as if I didn't know. "It's easy, and I can eat it for day-"

"-You know that's not what I meant, shithead."

His tone was firm and accusing. "...Where do you get off calling me a shithead?"

"'Cause you know better'n to pussy-foot around with me." Cid sighed loudly on the line; he always was a bit over-exaggerated. "I know as well as you do that Tifa's not happy. But what she don't know is that it ain't gettin' any better, an' she's gonna have to find that out for herself." He took another long drag and I felt a bitterness rising in me. I knew where he was going, and I never thought I'd see the day when I'd gladly take Yuffie's advice over Cid's, even if I knew his was the wiser. "You get in the way, and you're just gonna get hurt. You know I'm right."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Cid..."

"No, you listen to me. Tifa's got a boyfriend. And he's someone who trusts you." I heard him take a swig of something. "Now if he wisens up to what you're feelin' for his girl, he's not gonna trust you anymore." Another drag. "Bye-bye, Tifa. An' her life in that house is just gonna get more complicated, an' it's gonna be a pain in the ass for all of us."

I leaned against the counter, stirring the sauce. "You know I don't want to cause trouble."

"But you will. An' she doesn't need this pressure. Not now. He's gonna come back, Vince. An' when he does, you're gonna get hurt. An' she's gonna be stuck in the middle."

"And what about her? Do you know the position he's put her in?" If anyone deserved a lecture, I felt it was Cloud.

"Yeah, Yuffie told me all about that. It's a damn shame, an' Tifa needs to wisen up, too. But you..." and I could imagine he'd be poking me in the chest if I were standing in his house, "...better stop lettin' your feelings get the better of you. She trusts you; you can tell 'er what she needs to hear, but you'd better not be doin' it for your own reasons."

"...My _reasons_..." I ground out the word, "...are separate."

"They'd better be. 'Cause if you ever hurt her, I'd-"

"-I know."

"Well..." He cleared his throat as he swallowed his drink. "This's a delicate thing. The way I see it, we're like one huge family. There's a balance here, and a lot of lines you just can't cross. Now you know I love you guys..."

I smirked. "...You love me?"

"Shut up."

"I'm touched..."

"I said to shut the fuck up. I'm tryin' to sugarcoat this shit because you're like a brother to me..."

"I wouldn't call us brothers." I casually flicked a noodle onto the wall, watching to see if it would stick.

"Distant cousins then, whatever the hell you want. Just listen up, you dumbshit..."

"You'd better stop calling me names." I tried to keep in monotone so as not to give it away, but I was grinning by then, and wishing I could actually see him.

He sighed again, and I could imagine the amount of smoke that had probably filled their house by that time. "...Just don't. All right?"

"Anything else?" I pulled the collander from the cabinet.

"Promise me, Vince." There was that demanding, threatening tone again.

"...No."

"Don't be stupid. If you fuck him over-"

"-I have no intentions of making Tifa dishonest. But I can't promise that nothing will come of this, and I'm not going to say otherwise to please you."

"...So you're really gonna try an' win her over?"

I held the phone down with my jaw, trying not to drop it while avoiding the steam rising from the sink as I tossed the pasta around. "Not actively, no. But should the opportunity present itself..."

"Fine. We'll say it your way. So, _passively_...you're really gonna try an' win her over?"

"...Maybe."

"Fuckin' shit..."

"Anything else?"

There was a pause on the other end, before I heard his less spirited reply. "...Think you could put me up for the night?"

Now a favor? I smiled to myself. "You're coming into town?"

"Yeah, I wanted to check on 'er myself. Been a while since I seen you, too. But seein' as she's out of beds..."

I finished pouring the sauce over the potted noodles. "...Do you need a ride from the hangar?"

"That'd be nice."

"...If I can manage, that is."

"I kinda need to know, Vince."

"Not sure. I might be too dumbshit to find the place."

"Oh, hell..."

I grinned to myself as I filled a bowl. "...I'll be there. What time?"

"'Round four in the afternoon."

I still had time to get things in order. "...Got it."

"Thanks. I'll buy you a drink, or somethin'."

I laughed around a mouthful of food. "Tifa owns a bar."

"Yeah, but I figured we'd go out later."

"...We?"

"Well, I doubt she'd come, but if you want to ask her..." And then paranoia crept in. "...now wait just one goddamn minute!"

"She needs to get her mind off of things."

Cid huffed. "Things like Cloud?"

"Cid...don't do this now."

"You get her to come, and I'll cover your tab."

I smiled. "...You're on."

He sighed exhaustedly. "Just...don't set yourself up. Y'know?"

"I know."

A pause. "There ain't nothin' I can do to change your mind?"

"No."

More silence, as the thought sunk in. "All right, then. You can't say I didn' warn you, though."

"Nope, guess not. Same place as before?"

"Yep." I was sure he didn't appreciate the brush-off, but he was as tired of talking about it as I was, and we both knew he'd have all the time he wanted later in the evening to torture me.

"...You're lucky I was cleaning when you called."

His tone instantly picked up. "We havin' pasta for dinner?"

"Liquor for dinner. If you're still hungry after that, you can have pasta."

"Ha! It's a done deal." There was the Cid I knew. I only hoped he would stick around for the rest of the night.

"Then I'll see you at four."

"Right. See ya."

I hung up and glanced around the apartment. I'd have to finish the bathroom, but other than that I only had a few dishes and some laundry left. Cid would sleep on the couch-bed in the livingroom like he always did, so I went ahead and moved the coffee table to the far side of the room and set out some sheets for him.

When I was finally finished with the housework, I relaxed into my mattress and set my alarm for an hour's nap. I snatched the folded paper from my nightstand, holding it up as I laid my head to rest on the pillow behind. Negative on all counts, and just a few miles away, Tifa had a paper of her own that held identical results.

...That was nice to know.

I stared at the paper for a few moments longer before pulling my phone back out of my pocket and dialing her number. I didn't really care if Cid thought it was a bad idea; I just wanted to see her out of the house without watching the clock, and if I got to spend a little time with her, then that was all right too. It had been a long time since Tifa had enjoyed the night-life; no doubt Cid and Yuffie missed her, and they weren't the only ones.

I heard the line pick up, and there was a scratching and fumbling in the background. Once the distortion had stopped, I thought I heard...running water? "...Hello?"

"Tifa."

"Hi, Vincent. Uh...what's up?" More jostling.

"Did I catch you at a bad time?"

"Well, I um...I was just about to get in the shower." I heard the unmistakable sound of a brush working through a snarl in her hair. "What did you want?"

I smiled to myself. "...Do you think Denzel would be all right watching Marlene for the night?"

"Hmm...why?" She drawled on the words distractedly, before hissing an offended curse. "Damn!"

"...Tifa?"

"Oh, I'm fine. Just fighting with my hair again. Why are you asking?"

"I thought that perhaps you would like to go out tonight."

"Well, I don't know. I've got a lot of things to work out at the bar..."

"Tifa," and I hoped to catch something in her at the way I said her name, "it's Sunday. You don't even work tonight."

"Yeah, but I need to catch up on some things."

"...Like?" She didn't have anything in mind, I knew. She was only telling herself that there had to be _something_.

"I could do inventory. I need to fill out some orders anyway, and-"

"-Cid is in town tonight." I had expected her protest, and cut her off with the only thing I could think of to make her change her mind.

"...He is?"

"Yes." I paused. "And he's leaving early in the morning." If nothing else, I could appeal to her familial instincts.

"So will you guys be coming by the bar?"

...Right. We'd been holding her hands for so long and walking her through the ups and downs of her relationship with Cloud. But she was a big girl, and she needed to be given a reason to go out and seize her own opportunities. She wasn't helpless, and she wasn't going to fool me into thinking otherwise. "...We will be, but not for long."

"...Oh."

"We were hoping you might come out with us." Even if she were to say no, I still held onto the hope that she might come around when she saw us walking out the door, especially if we took Yuffie along for the ride. Hopefully, the ninja wouldn't offer to stay behind and play enabler.

"Can I call you back later?"

"Yes. I realise I am running up your bill." I inwardly groaned, knowing that getting her to agree was highly improbable, and she was only stalling for time.

She laughed unexpectedly, that forced sort of shallow explosion that comes from beneath a heavy blanket of depression. "Which one, my phone or my water?"

"...Most likely, both."

"All right." I could hear the smile draining from her voice. "...I'll call you when I'm out of the shower."

"I will talk to you then."

"Bye, Vincent."

"...Goodbye."

Two hours later, I was waiting by the elevators for Cid. He strutted over in his usual fashion with his arms held out. "Vince!"

The pilot's rough clap on my back was the greeting I'd come to expect of him, so I was more than a little surprised when he let his duffel bag slip from his shoulder and wrapped me in a bear hug, nearly lifting me from the floor. I made a false choking sound, signaling him to put me down.

"Thanks for comin', Vince. I didn' wanna have to call a cab." He grinned at me as he picked his bag up from the floor.

I turned and walked to the elevator, and he followed. "...I hope you're aware that I'm charging you."

"Is that so?"

I nodded. "Room and board."

He laughed out loud as we stepped into the elevator, and I pressed the button that would take us to the roof. "How's about I just show you a good time?"

I raised one eyebrow suggestively, and he frowned at me in feigned annoyance.

"You don't miss a beat, do ya?"

I couldn't help the grin inching its way onto my face. "I don't know. You tell me."

Cid grimaced and faced the doors with a stony look as I tallied my winning score in my head. No doubt we'd continue the game later, when we'd both had a few drinks; it was just our style.

We stood in comfortable silence until the bell sounded and the doors gave way. Once we were on the roof, I led Cid to my car and popped the trunk open, so he could dump his bag in. As I sank into my seat, I heard his surprised exclamation from my right.

"Hey! What's that on your chin?"

"...Hair?"

"Is that what that's called?"

I scowled at him.

Cid grinned as he settled in for the ride. "Well I'll be damned. You're startin' to get some character on that face of yours."

As I entered the garage and began the slow spiral down the building, my phone rang. I lifted myself up from the seat and fished around in my pocket for it, using the wheel for leverage and trying to keep it straight at the same time. I finally found the damned thing, and when I saw the display, my mood was instantly lightened. Not only was my favorite person calling me, but I was going to drink for free that evening...maybe.

"Hi, it's me."

"Tifa."

"...Are you still going out tonight?"

My mouth twitched. "That was quite the shower."

"Hmm? Oh! Well, I was going to call you when I got out, but I wasn't sure yet if I was going to be able to go, so I thought I'd wait a little bit and call you when I knew."

"And...?"

"...I think I'll come with you."

I was about to respond when an enthusiastic, 'Hey, watch the wall!' was thrown my way. I edged the car away from the concrete as we continued mindlessly down to the street, and I grinned in satisfaction. "Wonderful. I'm taking Cid to the apartment now. Tell Yuffie to be ready by eight, and I'll swing by and pick you two up then." Then, as an afterthought, I added, "...She's not twisting your arm, is she?"

"No. Well...maybe a little." I frowned at that, but she continued. "She asked me who I had been talking to, and I mentioned that Cid was in town. She said we should all go out, and I told her that you'd already asked." Tifa sighed in what sounded like contentment. "...She convinced me. Said that I needed to get out and enjoy myself, and she wasn't going to take no for an answer."

I was glad to hear that Yuffie hadn't decided to stay at home with Tifa, and instead had coaxed her to go out. "Good. I'm glad you're going to come, even if it's not just to see us."

"Yeah...hey!"

I chuckled. "I'll see you at eight."

I hung up my phone, and I could see Cid's wary look from the corner of my eye. "Was that Tifa?" I nodded, and he whistled low. "Should've known. You damn near killed us."

I only blankly stated, "You'll feel much better about it once you've bought me a drink," but I couldn't help the smile Cid's surprised expression solicited from me.

_**AN: **This chapter was tedious to write and I'm sorry for the delay. You were right, Motchi; I nearly did resort to pulling out my hair. Thanks to you as well, for reminding us all that Vincent is a man, and therefore grows hair in places other than his head._

_Next chapter is going to be a lot of fun. As always, reviews are much appreciated!_


	8. Liquid Cocaine

**08**

**Liquid Cocaine**

"Does this sweater make my boobs look funny?"

I could practically hear Cid's eyes rolling in his head. "Would you cut that out?"

"Oh, come on!" Yuffie's exhausted whine begged of him. "Just look at me?"

"No!" he growled.

"Well, I can't go out if it looks bad on me. It's Tifa's, you know, and her boobs are-"

"Shut the hell up!"

Yuffie puffed out her chest and pressed herself against the older man's elbow. "I'm not leaving you alone until you do."

"Yuffie, I..." Cid turned and gave her the quickest once-over I had ever seen, and an exaggerated one at that, if only to prove that he was indeed considering her. "There. You happy? You look fine."

A wide grin broke out on the young girl's face. "Ha! I'm telling Shera, you old lech!"

Cid resumed rolling his eyes and stopped near the car, hesitating and unsure until Yuffie pulled him unapologetically to the backseat, leaving Tifa to ride shotgun. Cid caught the conspiratorial look she shot me before ducking into the vehicle, and grimaced, shooting me a warning glance before following. Tifa, oblivious to the others' reactions, smiled sweetly at me before slipping into the leather cushioning.

"Where are we going?" a chipper voice questioned from the back of the car.

I prepared an answer as I started the engine, but Cid beat me to it. "Just a little ways down the road. Me an' Vince go there sometimes whenever I'm in town."

Tifa's brow furrowed as she smiled. "I thought you two came to _my_ bar when you were in town, Cid."

"Yeah? Well we go out, too." I shot him a warning glare by way of the rearview mirror. "And we're...glad you could make it," he finished.

Nice save, asshole. Way to guilt her. My expression must have said just as much, because Tifa's next question was directed at me.

"Vince, have you been getting your drinks elsewhere?" There was a hint of mock fury in her voice, but I knew she expected - and was fishing for - an answer nonetheless.

My voice gave nothing away, but my choice of words was deliberate; she could interpret them however she wished. "It's Cid's place, not mine. And," I added, knowing I might kick myself for it later, and that Cid would probably add one or two himself for good measure, "I don't visit you so that I may drink for free."

I might have continued had we been alone, and had I not caught a faint smile of satisfaction on her face in the glow of the passing streetlamps and headlights. She knew that I spent my time at Seventh Heaven simply because I wanted to be with a friend; and perhaps, if she read between the lines, she would realise that it ran much deeper than that. But I'd promised myself that I would behave for at least one evening; no teasing, no flirting, no suggestive comments, and no staring.

I knew my second comment was pushing it. And I didn't fail to catch the scowl that Cid sent my way from the backseat.

The place in question was nearly empty that evening, yet we were still greeted with a gust of heat and loud music once inside. That was one thing Cid liked about the place; he knew the words to every song, music that was before Tifa and Yuffie's time, the sort of music that he might have picked up from his parents because it was barely from even his era...the sort of music that I was familiar with. He immediately made for the main bar to reserve our usual table, Yuffie skipping merrily behind him, still so eager for any chance to prove that she was indeed of age.

Tifa lingered near the front entrance, pacing about slowly and eyeing the neon signs decorating the walls. I watched as her gaze floated from sign to sign, then from novelty poster to dart board, and then from pinball machine to...me.

_Staring._

I nodded to the table Cid was heading towards, and began to walk in his direction, Tifa following close behind. Yuffie soon appeared, sipping some orange-colored mixture, and I approached the back wall to examine the cue-sticks as Cid slid a few coins into the side of the table with a loud 'shucking' sound. No sooner than I had chosen, I felt a soft presence at my side.

Tifa leaned past me and easily selected her stick, seemingly giving no consideration to balance or other such variables, while I myself had rolled nearly half of the display across the nearest table to check for straightness, not even taking notice of Yuffie or Cid as they came and went. Perhaps I'd been taking myself a little too seriously.

"Drinks?"

"Hm?" She was pinning me down with her eyes. There was something about the way that Tifa addressed me when her head was clear and she had nothing to distract her. No matter how mundane the subject matter, or how trivial the question, I always had her undivided attention.

"There was a waitress," she continued, holding my gaze captive longer still, "over there," she thumbed over her shoulder, "who was asking for drink orders." Tifa turned around, as if to check if the girl was still there - and she was, shamelessly flirting with Cid, much to his obvious chagrin, though she didn't seem to take the hint - and the pin was pulled from me, and I was suddenly free to flutter about for a single moment. But then she turned back to me, and the pin returned, holding me in place, cue-stick still propped limply in my grasp. "...Should I order you something?"

"Ah..." I seemed to have trouble remembering where I put my mind, until I blurted out the first thing that came to memory. "Dry Manhattan."

"_Gods_, Vince! You're so _old!_"

I didn't miss the teasing tone in Yuffie's voice, but I was only allowed to send her a glare once Tifa had turned to lend her musical laughter to the girl. When she turned back to me, the mirth was gone from her face, but her eyes were still dancing...and I was still transfixed by them.

"I'll tell her," she said, lips actively resisting the stretch, a smile that I suspected had less to do with Yuffie's comment than it had to do with the expression she had caught on my face upon her return to me. She spun on the heels of her black suede boots, and walked back to Cid, leaving me to stare dumbly, once again, in her wake.

I thought that was supposed to be _my_ trick.

As I watched her take her leave, I couldn't help but notice that there was something about the way Tifa had come to wear her clothing as well, that had my full attention. She had taken to wearing tops that tied behind her neck, leaving her shoulders bare - even more delightful when she wore her hair up - and she never showed her midriff anymore. Instead she wore her shirts long and clingy, bunching along her torso and hugging her every curve just right, and she let the hems rest just below her hipbones, which accentuated her figure in a way that no midriff cut ever did. Her skirts had gotten longer as well, usually falling loosely to end just below her knees, brushing against the swells of her calves when she walked and flirting with the tops of the boots - shit-kickers, Cid called them - that she usually wore, heavy footwear that seemed to weight her thin and graceful body to the floor, dragging raw power around in secrecy.

And I was staring again.

Tifa stopped to stand next to Cid, casually putting a hand at his shoulder, an action which the waitress _did_ notice, and took as a sign to back down from the old man. I saw her mouth moving, and I attempted to read her lips, as I used to be quite skilled at doing just that. I was able to make out 'Dry Manhattan', and I was sure I saw something else, but it was unfamiliar to me - at least half of it was - unless I read incorrectly...and I doubted that was the case.

I walked over to the others, idly winding a block of chalk over the tip of my cue-stick. I raised an eyebrow in question as Cid shook the rack with a clacking sound, before finally meeting Tifa's eyes. "What is...Liquid Cocaine?"

"Fuckin' disgusting, is what it is," Cid offered, "an' a surefire way to end up with a hangover."

"Liar!" Yuffie retorted. "It's yummy."

Tifa grinned at me, erecting a barrier that drowned out the others' voices. "Peppermint, cinnamon-"

"An' cough syrup!" Cid's voice broke through. Well, _that_ was a short-lived moment.

"Oh, it is _not_ cough syrup!" Yuffie argued.

Tifa pushed an amused giggle back down into her belly. "It does taste kind of like cherry..."

"Yeah, cherry cough syrup," Cid chimed gruffly, removing the rack from the table and stepping back to check his work. "I can't believe you'd drink that shit, Tifa. You should know better, bein' that you're a bartender and all. Fuckin' Nibel sick medicine..." She merely shook her head and smiled as he lit up a cigarette, and raised his eyes to me, puffing his request around the flame. "You break."

I readied my shot, but paused as I was about to strike. "...How do you want to do this?"

"Oh, guys versus girls!" Yuffie ventured, before turning around and stopping a waitress with a polite, "Can I have another Bay Breeze?" before offering her empty glass to the woman's tray.

Cid cursed. "Shit, kiddo! You keep drinkin' those things like they're damned lemonade, and there's gonna be hell t' pay in the morning!"

"Maybe you should write a book on the art of drinking, Cid," Tifa joked.

"Yeah? Maybe," Cid replied, grinning. "But no, I'm not doin' guys versus girls. Doesn't seem fair," he teased, leaning against the table.

"You don't think we can kick your ass?" Yuffie challenged, a bit loud for my liking.

"Actually," Tifa admitted, "I'm a bit rusty at billiards."

"Fine then," Cid nodded. "Tifa, you're with me. Vince, you take the runt."

"Hey!" came the 'runt''s defiant bark.

I glared at him. I'd been doing that so much lately, I was beginning to lose count.

"It's a sure bet that me an' the kid are both gonna get drunk tonight, so I figure it's a fair handicap. I'll take just long 'nough to get Tifa back into the swing of things." He grinned slyly at me, as if he'd expected me to inch up behind Tifa and 'teach' her how I pleased. I might be bold, but he was giving me far too much credit. "Yuff'll be gone long before that though, so you'd better keep on your toes, Vince."

I frowned, returning to my shot with a muttered "Bastard," under my breath and struck. One for stripes, one for solids. "Your pick," I said, passing the ninja.

Yuffie took a fair appraisal of the table before coming to a conclusion. "Stripes."

I nodded, ducking down and trying to avoid the low-hanging lamp as I leaned over the table, and we continued on with the game.

Three hours later, Tifa was complementing my attire. "You look good in gold, Vincent." She was referring to my button-down, as it was the only item I wore that wasn't black. I could have countered her with a comment on how lovely she looked in her slate blue top, and the same principle would have applied. But how long had she been leaning on things like that? "And I like that patch on your chin," she said - dare I say it - fondly, tilting her head. Her eyes were lazy, and roamed my body unabashedly. "Although..." and here she narrowed her eyes as if she was trying to picture me without it while never closing them completely, "...I think I like you better without it."

And I liked her better with her hair up. She had such a beautiful, graceful, alluring neck. "Well, I didn't grow it out for you," I said in all feigned seriouness, but the quirk in my mouth said otherwise.

_Lie._

"Sure ya did!" Cid laughed, racking up the next game.

I faltered, and Tifa blinked a couple of times before shaking her head and smiling, as if it was only some inside joke that she didn't quite understand. At this I faked a smile, and waited for Tifa to turn away before I made the slightest of gestures toward Cid that I might just backhand him with my stick. I am quite sure my expression at the time might have lent some seriousness to it, as he raised one hand in defense and gave me a look that claimed he was kidding around.

I frowned. "Excuse me," I said, and headed to the men's room.

The bar had become rather crowded in the last hour, and it took me a full two minutes to make my way to the back of the building. When I arrived at my destination, I was glad to find myself alone, and even more glad to find that the facilities were clean. I splashed some cold water on my face and dried off with a rough paper towel, before stepping over to the urinal. I had just unzipped my pants when who should walk in, but Cid fucking Highwind.

And he comes to stand right beside me.

"You're fuckin' slayin' us out there!" he says. "I mean, I had no idea the kid would be that good!"

"Cid-"

"Though I guess I should've figured it out, since she probably hasn't left the bar scene since she turned twenty-one, but-"

"Cid-?"

"You guys are really kickin' our asses!"

My eyes narrowed at him. "Cid."

"Yeah?" His head swiveled on his sunburnt neck to face me.

"...It's called personal space."

"Huh?"

My scowl deepened. "Always leave one between yourself and the next man, Cid."

He blinked once. Twice. "Oh!" And then he scooted down...mid-stream. "Right, right."

Was he piss drunk?

I zipped my pants up and went to wash my hands, only to hear him call out, "You gonna behave when I leave town tomorrow?"

I stifled the growl rising in my throat. "Was that your plan? To embarrass me into silence until you find yourself back here?"

He shuffled over, shoving his hands under the sink as I dried mine off. "Hey, I'm sorry Vince. I didn't mean it like that."

"How did you mean it?" I asked bitterly, tossing the useless paper into the trash bin.

"I dunno. Just teasin', I guess. Goin' out, havin' a good time..." There was that tell-tale spasm in his mouth, that involuntary smile that came and went as he slightly jawed and chewed on his bottom lip. The man was piss fucking drunk.

"...Forget about it," I said, expertly erasing the frown on my face. Because I knew he would forget about it, probably about a half an hour before he passed out at the end of the night. And to think, the man had only been drinking beer. A lot of beer, admittedly, but only beer.

"We cool?"

What? I could have sworn he'd already forgotten what we were just talking about. To me, it was serious business. I sighed. "Yeah."

But I didn't miss the muttered, 'Five bucks says you shave tomorrow,' as he knocked the door open with his foot.

When we reached the table, Yuffie and Tifa were sitting on the edge, Tifa resting her head on the younger girl's shoulder, her jacket resting over her legs. "We're ready to go," Yuffie said. "I think Tifa's tired, and it's getting pretty loud in here."

I nodded, thinking it was a wise choice. Whoever would have thought that Yuffie could handle her liquor better than Tifa or Cid? "All right," I said, holding my arm out for Tifa to take. "Let's get you to the car."

Tifa lifted her bleary-eyed face off of Yuffie's shoulder and looked at me lazily for a moment, before she slid slowly and deliberately from the table, her skirt riding just high enough in the back as she rubbed against the edge that I could almost see her backside. She slowly paced her way over to me, looking distractedly at myself and then at the door, before searching the carpet.

I placed my hand alongside her face and lifted her chin up slightly. "Hey," I soothed. "You all right?"

In a motion surprisingly rough for someone in her state, she fisted her hands at the breast of my shirt and pulled me down, rising on wobbly tip-toes to meet my mouth. My eyes registered shock, but she was persistent, and while I wasn't drunk, I had enough in me to let myself enjoy it. Her mouth was open, but dry, and she didn't seem interested in using her tongue. Instead, I noticed the deep breath of air she took, as if she was drinking me in. Her lips tasted of the harshest home-baked candy, a strange combination of sweet and pungent, and I resisted the urge to bury my hand in her hair as I relaxed into her mouth.

Mmm...no. 'Yummy' was quite the understatement.

She fell away soon after she broke contact with me, taking one step back to steady herself. Her lean was no longer graceful, but simply unstoppable, and her arms were limp as they shook against my chest, clinging fingers the only thing keeping them from falling forever. She buried her face against the fabric of my shirt, and I heard her muffled admission, a quiet confession for my ears alone.

"...I've always wanted to do that. Curious, I guess..."

My fingers reached up of their own volition to run through her soft hair, and my eyes drifted over the top of her head to meet the looks of our companions. Cid appeared to have just swallowed flaming hot charcoal. Yuffie was grinning wildly at me, glancing back and forth between myself and Cid; though somehow her grin seemed a bit more smug when it was directed at him. The ninja turned away, mumbling something about covering the tab and pulling Cid along with her.

I swallowed hard, placing my arm around Tifa to guide her out of the bar. "...Let's go."

Once Tifa was bundled safely inside the car and I had shut the door, Cid pulled me aside.

"You know she was drinkin' that terrible, terrible shit, Vince." Was his buzz already starting to wear off?

"She only had four!" Yuffie hissed.

Cid shook his head, still chewing on the inside of his lip. No, still drunk, but he thought he had more sense than I did. Maybe he did. "Liquid Cocaine is a serious drink. You can't read too much into this-"

"If the desire wasn't there in the first place, she wouldn't have done it," Yuffie said, pointing a finger at his chest like she was imparting a revelation.

But Cid ignored her. "-and chances are, she won't even r'member it, come mornin'."

I sighed, knowing he was probably right about the impending morning, but loathe to admit it. However, I took solace in what Yuffie had said, especially in light of Tifa's earlier confession. "...Let me drive the girls home." No 'We'll talk it over in the morning.' Not for Cid. I didn't want to talk about it. I wanted him to forget it, just like she would, so that I could keep that memory all to myself and never let it be crushed.

"Right. Never happened," Cid said, moving to the backseat as I rounded the front of the car.

_Crush._

The ride back to Seventh Heaven was rather quiet and seemed to drag on forever, with Cid and Yuffie patiently watching the two of us from the backseat and Tifa leaning her forehead dazedly against the window. But somehow, during the short trip from the bar to Tifa's home, the slight drizzle our argument outside seemed to draw forth had turned into a shower decent enough to make the walk from the street to the front door a pain.

"Wait," Tifa mumbled, as she slid back and dug through her coat pockets. "Wait, wait...wait..."

When she pulled out the remote to her garage door, I dutifully backed away from the curb and around to the side of the bar. Once parked, Tifa opened her car door and set her feet out on the pavement, hanging her head in her lap. Raindrops pelted the back of her neck and soaked through her hair, dripping down the rest of her form, but she didn't seem to care. It didn't help that she'd nursed her first drink, and then consumed the following three in the last hour. Cid tried to help her out of the car, but she waved him off, unwanting to move.

When I reached her, I bent down to try and catch a glimpse of her face behind that thick curtain of wet hair. "Tifa?"

"Mm." She brought an elbow to rest up on her knee, and she held her forehead in her hand.

I crouched on the ground in front of her, not minding that I was gettig soaked through. "We're going to take you inside, now."

"You'll feel much better once you're in bed," Yuffie added.

Cid reached forward and held onto one of Tifa's elbows, while I slid an arm around her waist and pulled her arm around my back. We lifted her away from the vehicle, lead weight completely relaxed into us. She moaned in frustration, limply clutching the small device in her hand, opening the door for us to take her upstairs.

What we hadn't counted on, was seeing Fenrir parked inside. That seemed to sober Tifa up pretty well; she hadn't regained her motor skills quite yet, but she seemed fairly fixated on the bike.

Yuffie placed a hand on my shoulder, as my legs had stopped moving. "I can get her inside," she said, already shifting Tifa away from us. "You know...keep it simple." That the younger girl was willing to bear the brunt of the burden was impressive. I'd like to think it was Tifa's influence, recalling a particular incident at the Turtle's Paradise some years ago, and that they were merely switching places for the night.

"That's not necessary," I protested, but she shook her head.

"After what happened at the bar, it'd probably be better if she wasn't in the same room as you _and_ Cloud, at least until she's got her wits about her." When did she become so observant? And where could I buy the book she and Cid were reading from? I must have been losing my mind if I'd taken a backseat to the usually rash and juvenile.

Tifa didn't seem to be paying attention to the reference, and I took that as a bad sign. Cid and I reluctantly gave her up to Yuffie, the reluctance mostly on my part, and they started towards the house, Tifa's hesitant legs shuffling slowly alongside the strangely calm girl.

"Oh, Cid?" Yuffie called over her shoulder. "Do you think you could give me a ride home in the morning?"

"Yeah," he sighed, waving her off. "Just remind me..."

She turned to face us, rolling her eyes, knowing that wouldn't help, as he would probably forget all about it in the morning, and she would miss her chance if she slept in.

"I'll come and pick you up, Yuffie," I offered. Cid would need my help getting to the hangar in any case.

"Thanks."

"...Give her some water," I suggested.

I heard a muffled groan against the girl's shoulder. "Don't want that..."

"You think it'll make her feel better?"

I nodded to Yuffie, telling her to go ahead with it either way. "It will probably make her vomit, but she'll feel better afterwards, and she'll be less likely to feel sick in the morning."

I wished I'd had towels in the car with which to cover the seats, but Cid and I ended up riding back to my place drenched and bleeding water all over the leather anyway. The ride was mostly silent; I figured the man next to me was concentrated on the feeling of slowly sobering up. But when we were only minutes away...

"Hey."

I raised an eyebrow in response, my eyes not leaving the road to consider him.

"Be careful...you know, when you go over there in the mornin'. Make sure she's okay, but...try not to fawn all over her in front of the boy."

I pursed my lips, the corner of my mouth pulling into a pathetic excuse for a smile. Did I fawn all over her? "...Right."

_**AN: **Sorry again for the delay, but it was legit; between six of us having birthdays, Joe's relatives being in town, pediatrics, moving Johnny to baby food, my mom having major surgery, and so on...the last couple of weeks have been really hectic. I wasn't stringing you guys along, honestly. And I hope the chapter is of good enough quality to make up for the wait._

_Another thanks to Motchi, for the glorious image of a slightly stubbly Vincent chin._

_Major conflict coming in the next chapter, and it will also be the last chapter with a T rating, unless I think of another scene that I simply have to stuff in there before I get around to changing it._

_The review button is LOVE. )_


	9. Results

**09**

**Results**

I trudged wearily through my hallway the next morning, unsteady on zombie feet as I stopped near my couch, taking notice of my guest. Still half-asleep, I lifted clasped hands high above my head in a stretch as I let out a yawn. Cid was nearly falling off the furniture, one knee pressed against the hardwood floor, with his knuckles dragging beside it. Just one lean too far, and he was liable to find himself sprawled out on said floor; and I had half a mind to push him.

I felt a white-hot flash behind my eyes, and I dropped my arms, blinking and struggling to regain my balance as I decided against kicking him from his perch. No, that might lead good old Cid to think he ought not to trust me when he comes to town. And if one cannot trust his friends when he needs them the most, than whom can he trust? I was suddenly reminded of his bold comment on the state of my chin and the most plausible explanation for it, and in front of her, no less.

Oh, but the bastard deserved a good flooring for _that_ slip-up. And if not for his certain hang-over, I would have done it, too.

_Curious_, she'd said. To which I'd wanted to respond, "I wasn't expecting that. I can do much better, you know." But that might be considered taking advantage, and such things were bound to earn me an earful from a crass old grouch twenty-five years my junior.

I didn't much feel like coffee, or breakfast, or like anything else for that matter. I didn't even feel like dressing. Judging from Tifa's encore the previous night, she wouldn't be feeling her best, and I could give two shits about what the others would think of my appearance. Bedhead, a t-shirt and sweats would do for picking Yuffie up, though I'd have to grab a coat. I'd even let Cid sleep in; no need to drag him along, and I could deal without his comments.

§

I'd called ahead, so I wasn't surprised to find Yuffie waiting for me, packed and ready to go with the front door unlatched. I was surprised, however, to find that the rest of the house was silent. Her head was resting in her arms on the countertop, and she bolted upright at the sound of my entry.

"Gawd, Vincent. Could you have called any earlier?" she whined, before dragging her things past me, muttering something about the "buttcrack of dawn".

"I was up." My eyes scanned the building out of habit. "...Are Tifa and Cloud," I asked, trying to ward off the slew of mental images that assaulted me, "still in bed?"

"Uh," she replied, smiling to herself as we headed outside,"I'm sure Tifa will be in bed most of the day."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I checked on her before I headed downstairs. She wasn't feeling too well. Although," she added, trailing away as if she were only thinking aloud, "I'm just fine. Maybe next time I'll go with the mojito..."

I grimaced as I popped the trunk open and she hefted her bags inside.

"You should stop by later to check on her. See if she's doing any better. You know, that sort of thing."

She was looking at me with that signature smile of hers, genuine but plastered to her face in such a way that anyone who knew her could tell it was all but innocent. To this I merely lifted an eyebrow and asked, "Where is Cloud?"

"Oh, he's gone," she clipped, turning on her heel and heading for the passenger's side.

I stood blinking for a moment, before I recovered, following suit and seating myself behind the wheel. "Gone?"

"Yeah," she said, settling in for the ride. "When I went in to check on her this morning, she was all alone. Denzel's still staying in Cloud's room, so I guess he had an early delivery." She shrugged. "Either that, or he just up and left again. But I haven't seen or heard from him all morning." She sounded a bit upset, her inflection betraying the helpless friend that she was, caught in the middle of something she was powerless to influence.

"Hmm." I studied the hair on my chin in the rearview mirror before starting the engine. I would shave it, but only _after_ I'd dropped Yuffie and Cid off at the hangar. "Perhaps I should go and check on her now?"

I hadn't given any thought as to whether I was asking Yuffie, or only talking to myself, but I was rewarded with a shake of her head anyway. "She's sleeping now. I left her some water and painkillers."

I nodded, and we merged into traffic. "Maybe I will stop by later." I knew it wasn't a 'maybe'; I would have stopped in right then and there, if not for Yuffie's warning that she was sound asleep.

"Yeah?" She seemed to perk up instantly, a little too excited for my liking, but it brought a small smile to my face just the same.

"Yuffie..." I started, the warning evident in my voice, but she only rolled her eyes and sighed in response.

"I know, I know..."

But then she returned the smile; hers was wide and unapologetic as she was under the delusion that she was no longer powerless to do anything about Tifa's condition, and I would let her think she had a hand in my kindness toward Tifa if it would keep her satisfied. She even seemed humored by the slight rise she had gotten out of me, betraying my mask of indifference.

§

The rest of the morning was spent trying to come up with a new short story for my boss that had nothing to do with Tifa. I settled on the idea of a thriller, thinking that was reasonably safe, thanks to the old-school horror movie marathon Yuffie was occupied with on the television. She was curled into the arm of my couch, and from the way she looked at Cid's limp carcass, I knew - I _knew_ - she wanted to push him to the floor just as much as I did, if not more, if the mischeivous glint in her eyes and her conniving smirk were any indication.

The man's last words to me when I dropped him off were along the lines of, "Are you going to behave yourself while I'm gone?" or, "You watch yourself," and let's not forget my personal favorite, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do, an' if you do, name it after me." It was as if he honestly believed that as soon as his back was turned, I was going to shimmy up Tifa's skirt.

Truth be told, I wasn't sure what I was going to do with myself. Cid couldn't have picked a better time to drop in and then exit abruptly, leaving myself with plenty of food for thought and without sufficient distraction. I pondered this as I fingered my phone on the way to a local deli, trying to determine whether or not I should make the call.

The phone rang five times before she answered, and by the time I heard her groggy voice on the other end, I was feeling badly for calling. I had only wanted to check up on her, but it became obvious to me that I'd woken her from sleep.

"...Ugh," she moaned. "Vincent...?"

"Tifa."

I heard her shift on the line, and I imagined her rubbing at her eyes in a daze, perhaps brushing the hair away from her forehead. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," I said confidently. "You don't sound too well, though."

"Mmm," she moaned again. "What time is it?"

"It is half past twelve." I waited a moment for her to gather her wits before asking, "...Do you feel much like eating?"

"Well, my stomach is empty. Actually, I _know_ my stomach is empty..." she corrected, trailing off. "But I really don't feel like going anywhere."

I smiled knowingly to myself. "Anything in particular you might like?"

"Hm?" Under normal circumstances, I would have expected a renewed burst of energy at that, but she still seemed slow and confused. "Oh, Vincent. You don't have to bring me food."

"I thought I would stop by and see how you were doing. There are plenty of places on the way, and I was headed to get something anyway."

"Well..." she hesitated, thinking. "I think I might try something like a sandwich. Maybe the bread will soak up all that stomach acid. But I don't know if I'll be able to eat it yet. I think I'll know when I see it."

I frowned. "How about half a sandwich, then, and a cup of soup?"

"Okay," she said. "Something light, white meat. Don't let them put mayonnaise on it, either. I don't think my stomach can take it. Oh, and no pickles."

I smiled again. "Done. See you in fifteen." I then hung up the phone just as I was pulling into the plaza.

§

Soon after, I was sitting in a booth with Tifa, watching her take slow, deliberate bites of her food. She looked tired and worn, like she didn't even want to move, and I resisted the urge to slide over to her side and offer my shoulder.

"Will you be open for business tonight?" I asked, thinking I already knew the answer.

She shook her head in response. "No, I really don't think so."

"...Cloud left early?" I met her eyes, looking for signs that would betray her feelings.

"He did." She sighed, setting her sandwich down and all but forgetting it. "He was gone when I woke up. He never said anything...not even last night," she said, the hurt showing through her defeated features. "Maybe it's because I was drunk. I probably shouldn't have done that," she laughed bitterly, so much that she had me feeling her dejection. Truthfully, it hadn't occurred to me until then that she might have slept with him, given her state and especially after she'd kissed me; I cursed myself for leaving her to him, though I should have known better, as she'd had Yuffie to watch over her. If she had fallen, I would have told her to take the test all over again. "Oh, Vincent. I don't know what I'm going to do."

I wasn't quite sure what to tell her. I couldn't make that decision for her, and I was so caught up in my own desire that I didn't feel I could be the objective friend she needed. But I thought that perhaps if I knew more about where she currently stood, I would be able to offer some safe suggestion, and so I cocked my head to the side in expectation that she follow with more conversation.

"I mean, I always thought things would work out, because they were supposed to. I never thought being with him would make me so miserable. He-"

No sooner had she begun talking about Cloud when, speak of the devil, he entered the bar. Without so much as a greeting to Tifa, or even a casual nod to show that he'd all but failed to notice her, he set his pack down on one of the tables and turned to face myself instead. His eyes were cold and hardened against me, and I was fairly sure I had done something to anger him.

"Vincent," his unwavering voice commanded, "We need to talk."

My eyebrows rose in question, and I glanced at Tifa, who looked thoroughly confused and unsure whether she should be embarrassed or curious.

"Outside," he clipped.

Right. I should have recognized the precedent, 'We need to talk,' as a request to be alone. After all, Cloud was rather direct in his speech...save for with Tifa. I knew he had business with me, and it was obvious it wasn't going to be pleasant. I followed him out into the crisp autumn air, leaving Tifa behind to stare after us. No sooner had the door swung shut when Cloud pinned me under an accusatory gaze and got straight to the point.

"Are you two sleeping together?"

I nearly choked on my breath. There were a million rebuttals scrambling up my throat and skidding to a stop and the edge of my tongue as I tried to sort them out. But then I realized...I took a certain amount of satisfaction in his suspicion. Cloud was worried about what Tifa might be doing while he was away? I should think that would make him want to stick around, instead of leaving her alone for weeks at a time.

Being her closest friend, however, and the one she spent most of that time with, I should have anticipated this, should have prepared better for a confrontation that was a long time coming. And while a part of me - the part that liked playing with fire - wanted to let him squirm in wait while I answered his questions with more of my own, I knew that doing so would only make life more complicated for Tifa. My answer was a simple, "No."

I thought that, given the eye contact and the fact that Cloud had never pressed matters much with me, that would be enough for him; that would be the end of it, and he would launch into an explanation over why he felt the need to ask, why he felt he was justified in his accusation, take two steps back and run his hand through his hair as he lost his nerve under my steady eye. But he did me one better.

"Are you sure?" His eyes narrowed at me, unafraid as I scrutinized his stolid features, looking for the chink in the armor and wondering what tangible reason gave him the audacity to ask such a thing of me.

What kind of a question was that? How could I not know whether or not I was sleeping with Tifa?

Cloud frowned as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a thin, folded paper and handed it to me. "Then you had better explain this."

I didn't have to ask what it was; I knew even before I unfolded the note. Tifa's test results...

Oh, for fuck's sake.

"If it's not you, then maybe you know something about it."

I handed the paper back to him, not bothering to ask him how he'd come across it. "I convinced her to take the test."

"Why?" There was something in his eyes I didn't like, something that told me he was already preparing a defense, like he knew this was about him and he was only trying to shift the blame.

It wasn't my place to say. Oh sure, I had no problem telling him that my feelings toward him were less than trusting, but I couldn't speak for Tifa. And before I had the chance to confess that I'd quite possibly ruined her perception of him, she burst through the door.

"What's going on?" She'd no doubt been watching our exchange through the glass, and really, she couldn't be blamed, given the start of the conversation.

"What is this?" Cloud said, passing the note over to her and effectively shifting the focus away from himself and back onto her.

Tifa snatched the paper from him, clearly upset at the way her afternoon was turning out. But that was nothing compared to the brief look of dismay and the sudden flash of anger that followed her once-over of the material. "Where did you get this?"

"You left it sitting on the dresser." Cloud folded his arms expectantly, and I didn't miss the disappointment that crossed her face. "What is it?"

"What does it look like?" she asked, "And what does any of this have to do with Vincent?"

His eyed her suspiciously. "Why shouldn't I talk to him about it?"

I resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of my nose, or to make any outward show of the sudden annoyance I felt at Cloud for making this an affair. The proper thing would have been to talk to Tifa in confidence and leave it at that. If he couldn't trust her, then that was all there was to it. But I knew that wouldn't be all, and that she'd suffer more lonely nights waiting for him, that he'd never give her the answers that _she_ needed. For the moment, I was comforted that I was there, though that would mean nothing for her once I was gone.

"You're always gone!" she shouted, despite the nagging ache in her head she'd bemoaned only minutes ago.

Cloud held his hands up defensively as if to curb her anger. "...What is that supposed to mean?"

Tifa gestured wildly with her arm to nothing in particular. "I got scared, okay?"

His eyebrows shot up in surprise, and he leaned forward. "This is because you don't trust me?"

"You're always gone!" she repeated.

Well, she had been wondering as to the best time to bring it up. I'd hoped circumstance would have given her more than one night to prepare, but it seemed things were going to take care of themselves, whether she liked it or not. I stayed my feet, watching the two banter back and forth, ready to support her if ever I was needed, but she seemed to be handling things just fine.

"I can't believe you don't trust me!" Oh, I had a store of comments for that one.

"Well, what would you think, if you were me?" The question was an invitation, as she placed her hands on her hips, or even a plea for understanding.

But Cloud thought he understood all too well. "I guess you were thinking that because I was gone that I must be fooling around, because that's what people do when separated for a while. So tell me, Tifa, why is it that you think that way? Is that what you would do?"

"Don't twist my words, Cloud!"

Did he not realize how long she'd waited for him _before _they lived together? How long she'd waited for him while they were merely housemates? I shifted on my feet, biting my tongue, but the sound displacement of gravel did me no favors.

"Thank you, Vincent. I can handle things."

I frowned at the way he dismissed me, as if I'd given him something he could use against her and I was no longer needed. I was about to open my mouth when Tifa silenced me.

"...It's okay, Vincent." She placed a hand on my arm. "I'll call you later, all right?"

"No you won't," Cloud interjected. "We're going to finish this."

"I'll call whomever I damn well please!" she shot back at him.

"If you're not going to trust me, then I don't see why I should trust you."

"Spoken like a true hero."

Cloud stared at me with no small measure of incredulity, nostrils flaring. Did I say that out loud?

Tifa grabbed me by the arm and led me over to my car. "It'll be all right," she said, but not reassuringly. "Go home, and don't worry about me. Don't call me; I'll call you." I stood hesitating at my door; she couldn't open it for me or try to urge me inside, because I'd locked it on my way into the bar.

"Tifa!"

"I'm coming!" She ground out, whipping around to face the angry young boy glaring daggers at us from her walkway. "It's okay, Vincent. Really," she said, turning back to face me with a much softer tone than before. The rest of the world could wait, including Cloud. "If you stay, it's just going to make things more complicated."

She was right. I reluctantly unlocked the car and opened my door, pausing before ducking inside. "If you need anything..."

"I know who to call."

I nodded. "Day or night...I'm always available. You can call at any hour..."

She smiled softly, gratefully. "I know."

"Tifa, say goodbye!"

"Goodbye..." she murmured, reaching up on her toes to plant a swift kiss on my cheek before wrapping me up in her arms. And then she walked away.

I shouldn't have said what I'd said to him, shouldn't have let her do that right in front of him. I had a feeling she was in for a rough night, and it was my fault.

§

It was around ten o'clock that evening when she called. I recognized her number on my display, but she didn't answer right away. Instead my greeting was returned with a muffled "Fine!" and the slam of a door.

"...Tifa?"

"Hey, Vincent. Do you mind if I come over?" She sounded out of breath.

"Is everything all right?" I had just gotten out of the shower, and was already headed to my room to grab a shirt.

"Oh yeah. Everything's fine." I heard her huffing on her end, and then a swish of sound rolled over the line.

So she was out wandering the streets. "Hang on. I'll come and get you." I quickly shoved the phone through my shirt sleeve with my hand as I finished putting the garment on, and it made it back to my ear just in time to catch her reply.

"No, it's fine, really. The last bus leaves in a minute. I can still catch it."

"It's not a problem, Tifa." I didn't want him following her or pressuring her back into a situation she wasn't ready for. "I'm not far."

"Ah...just boarded the bus!" she sung triumphantly, covering her earlier anger, as if she'd bested me at a game. "See you in fifteen."

And with that, she hung up.

§

_**10/19/2006: **So sorry for the delay. I've had more going on again...due to my computer failing twice. I've been getting a lot of artwork done though. And I've got more ideas for stories floating around. While I depend so much on technology, having a break can lead to wonderful things._

_Next chapter, the rating will rise, due to an adult situation (yes), which will involve alcohol (I'm taking this somewhere unprecedented the next morning, so all I can do is ask you to trust me. I thought about changing it, but I found it was too important to the story, so I've kept it. However, it should go over rather smoothly, and without cheesiness). Hope I won't lose any of you over this. It will seem contradictory to what Vincent said earlier about his views on sex, but I'm trying to take the two of them to a place where they can fail each other, and grow stronger because of it._

_Also, because my home computer is no good, I didn't have time to send this one out to Motchi or Bleu for their usual beta. So if you see anything...anything at all...don't hesitate to tell me so I can fix it._

_Love you all._


	10. Choice and Circumstance

**10**

**Choice and Circumstance**

**(-Caution: Life is handing you lemons. I take no responsibility for what you make of them-)**

_...And no skipping ahead to the "good stuff"!_

Those fifteen minutes seemed to stretch on for an eternity. When I finally heard Tifa's knuckles gently rapping at my door, I'd had plenty of time to consider the situation. She must have gone through a lot of trouble at home, if she was willing to leave the children behind while she escaped. It obviously was not the best time to bring up the kiss I'd received from her the previous evening.

Of course I'd thought about that. I'd had the entire afternoon to think _that_ one over; ever since her confrontation with Cloud left me feeling like an outsider and contemplating my own innocence, my thoughts had naturally travelled down that path. But I knew I would have to set all of that aside and give her my full attention, if I were going to be of any help to her.

Little did I know that my pathetic attempt would make no difference. Little did I know that I was not the one calling the shots. No, my control over the situation, as I would later find out, was as imagined as my lack of fault in bringing her to this point.

She greeted me with a brisk thank-you for allowing her to come over, and denied my offer to take her coat, opting instead to hold her arms tightly about herself as she made her way to the kitchen. I followed wordlessly as she set down the paper bag she'd brought with her, a heavy clunking sound my only clue as to what was inside, and waited patiently as she began searching through my cabinets for something to suit her purposes. Finally, when her search returned her nothing, she spoke.

"Do you have any shot glasses?"

While I took no satisfaction in her frustration, I couldn't help the knowing tug in my smile as I turned to leave and she followed me back out into the living room. "In here," I said, walking over to the large, wooden hutch on the far side of the room. It was an ominous-looking piece, dark wood and shelves littered with old and dusty books, some of which I never read and only had for the sake of keeping. I opened one of the cabinets, revealing several bottles of liquor and an assortment of glasses.

Her eyes were not puffy this time, but I suspected from the stone cold look in her restless stare that she'd been too spent on anger to cry. As I pulled a bottle of cognac from the vestibule and began to pour, she watched my hands with such an intensity that I had to find some way to break the silence.

"...What happened?"

She hardened herself and sat on the sofa, deliberately pulling a bottle of berry-flavoured rum from the bag and setting it down on the coffee table. "I guess I didn't tell you, did I?"

Her eyes flicked to me for a second, and I shook my head, retrieving a shot glass for her and coming to sit by her, the bottle and my own rocks glass in tow.

"Cloud and I are through."

Her reply was definitive, matter-of-fact, as if she were repeating it to the man himself, and all I could do was lift my brows in question. "...You're...through?"

"Yes," she stated again, unscrewing the cap on her bottle and pouring herself a shot. "I told him we were over, and then I left." She turned to me, holding out the bottle. "Do you want some of this?"

I frowned and shook my head. "No. I'm not a fan of flavoured drink."

"You don't like it?"

"Hmm. Something about artificial flavouring reminds me of melted lip gloss on a hot car seat."

She shrugged. "Oh, well. You have yours, and I have mine." She set the bottle back on the table and shrugged out of her jacket.

I took a moment to myself, to think on these things. What could have happened to make her end things so abruptly with the man she had loved for so long? And did it have anything to do with me? "Tifa."

"Mmm?"

Her head whipped around to face me, and that's when I saw it. Pinned under my own stare, as I held her flitting attention in place, there was something fragile wavering behind her trained eyes. She needed rest, but she was too proud to let her guard down, too ashamed to break in front of me again, not when she had finally come to resolution. But if she was searching for strength, she should have known that all she needed to do was ask. I'd promised, after all. "It won't hurt to talk it out."

Her brow twitched a bit. "Won't it?"

I shook my head. "Why would it?"

"Right," she said, pausing to take the shot. So, she was afraid that if she thought about it, if she revisited it, then she might be forced to reconsider her situation, or, worse yet, justify Cloud's behavior. I wasn't quite sure if I would be helping or hurting, or if it would be wrong of me to encourage her not to go back to him. True, I thought she was in a bad way, but I had what many people would call a conflict of interest.

"It's going to catch up with you sooner or later." I paused, still rationalizing my having this discussion with her in my head. "...Do you need anything?" A hot meal? A place to stay? Reassurance? I would have given her anything, but she would eventually have to go home and face the music.

She set the glass down and began to pour herself another, sighing. "I've made up my mind."

I licked my lips when I saw the slump in her shoulders, and prepared myself to fall into the role I'd become so accustomed to. I was her rock, and that thought gave me the strength I needed to get through the rough patches we'd been through - she with Cloud, and I watching - because the personal hell she was trying to ascend was much more important than my own heartache. If I focused on her needs, I would be able to forget my own. I would love her forever; tomorrow could wait.

"You know, I thought that he and I were meant to be together," she began, finally relaxing into the cushions. I leaned back and waited for her to continue. "When I was living in Midgar, I thought I'd never see him again. When I ran into him at the train station, it was like..." She tossed her head back and gestured with her hands, searching for the right words.

"Like...?"

"Like fate had brought him back into my life. I realize now that it wasn't for the purpose I had thought. And I know that saving the planet is much more important than some silly crush, right? But, after everything we went through, I thought, 'How could this not be right?'"

"I think I understand," I said. "Though, it is easy to think that outside influences are working in your favor, when you believe you are where you should be."

Tifa looked over at me, leaning her cheek against the back of the couch. "But everything just fell into place so perfectly."

I leaned forward and gave her a sideways glance, my elbows on my knees and the glass hanging loosely in one hand. "As you said, there was another purpose. And I think that if you search your heart you'll find that it was worth it." If nothing else, that might give her a sense of peace about her decision.

Her eyes went soft, as did her voice. "Do you believe in fate, Vincent?"

I searched her face for the true meaning behind her question before reaching for the cognac and pouring myself another glass. "No. I believe in circumstance and choice." At the light clink of the glass against the mouth of the bottle, she sat up and began to pour herself another shot. "Your choices can only take you as far as your circumstances allow them. You can think of circumstance as fate if you want, but..." I took a sip from my glass. "Once you make a choice, your circumstances change."

She tilted her head curiously, forehead wrinkled in question. "So, we're the masters of our own destinies?"

I grinned amusedly. "Unless you back yourself into a corner."

Tifa turned her head back to consider the glass on the table before reaching out to take it in her hand. She then slipped her sneakers off by way of her toes and curled into the couch, tucking her legs beneath her and smiling softly to herself, like she had discovered something hidden in my words. It was then that I wished I could read her mind; I was sure she understood what I meant by that, but there was no sign of resentment in her face, just a passive - and perhaps, amused - smile, while her eyes grew wet with the shot she took.

I'd been watching her, examining her mouth for what I felt was too long, when she lifted her eyes to mine and the smile grew with her words.

"...Does that ever happen to you?"

If it hadn't, I might not have been so understanding, might not have felt so inclined to be there for her in the first place, and we wouldn't be having the conversation. Or, at least not at the level she'd needed; she'd been craving understanding for years, and if my own experiences could be of service, then they weren't without purpose. I sent her a half-hearted grin as I lifted my prosthetic arm and flexed its digits. "Well," I said, brow twitching in a somewhat humored response to the titanium surface that glinted back at me in the dull light of the chandelier. In light of everything that had happened to me, I thought I was rather well-adjusted.

Tifa let out the barest of chuckles and shook her head, setting her glass down on the table and sitting back against the cushions. "That's not what I meant," she said, shifting around so that her entire body faced me as she settled comfortably into the material. "Here I am with you again...after everything that happened with Cloud earlier today."

I lifted my chin and rested my arm over the back of the couch, emptying my glass and replacing it on the wooden surface. "...Are you apprehensive about returning home?"

"That's not what I meant," she repeated, shaking her head again and holding my eyes with hers. "You do so much for me, and..." She let out a sigh, as if she was at a loss for what to do. "Oh, I'm so sorry for dragging you into this. Of all people, after you've been so kind..."

"You didn't force me," I said, knowing I couldn't have stayed away indefinitely. I'd moved to Edge of my own volition, appointed myself as her rock because I'd wanted to be.

She didn't look convinced. "Maybe not from the start, but you can't say my choices haven't gotten in the way of your own. And now things are bad between you and Cloud."

I smiled to myself. "I'm sure I'll be fine." Then a thought struck me, and a tinge of worry replaced my peace, though I tried not to show it. "Tifa," I said, resting my head against the back of the couch, "what will you do if, when you return home, Cloud is ready with an apology?"

She frowned and untucked one leg, kicking at her shoe on the floor. "I can't go back to him." She didn't sound as resolved as I would have liked. Then, as if we had never touched on the previous subject at all, her smile returned and she shot me a sideways glance. "...You shaved."

I nodded. "Too itchy."

"Hmm," she mused. "You know, I barely even noticed, I'm so unused to seeing you with it in the first place. It's like it was never even there." She got up then, and began to walk toward the kitchen, calling over her shoulder to me. "And is that my shirt?"

So it was. I hadn't really bothered to notice it when I put it on, mistaking it yet a second time for an ordinary, black t-shirt. Upon closer inspection, the front of the shirt was covered in faded, dark green lettering, the mock up of a playbill for _Loveless_. I almost chuckled out loud at the irony of it all; I was like some living, breathing advertisement.

Tifa perched herself on the counter and narrowed her eyes at me, leaning back to place her hands behind her in support of her weight. "Well, thanks," she said, smiling for me. "For everything you do. And if he tries to talk me into going back, I'll just have to remember all the effort you put into me," she teased, making light of the severity of the situation. "I can't just go and let you down, can I?"

"You don't owe me anything," I protested. "I'm concerned about you, and that's why I'm here. But it's not about what I think is good for you," I said, hoping it wouldn't push her back into his arms further down the road but knowing I needed to put it out there. "It's about _what you want now_." She'd only get one life, and I wanted it to be as good as possible, but on _her _terms. Not Cloud's...and not mine.

She only tilted her head at me and smiled, and then I realized her hands were fumbling around behind her. She looked back over her shoulder to see what she'd found, and then I realized my mistake. I'd left my folder on the countertop. "What's this?"

Oh, I'd been careful to avoid writing anything in my draft that morning that would give even the slightest hint of insight into my personal life, but that didn't help the previous projects sitting there with it. As Tifa pulled one of the papers from the pile and held it up for examination, I was moved to action and stood from my spot. Unfortunately, I stood too quickly, and the sudden rush of blood and liquor had my head swimming.

As I unsteadily made my way over to the counter, Tifa had already begun perusing the story in her hands. "Oh, this is for that magazine you write for, isn't it? Unless it's just a hobby..."

"Tifa, please..."

I wearily reached out for the sheet, but she snatched it away and hid it behind her back. A mischievous grin spread across her face, and she narrowed her eyes in suspicion. Or, maybe that was just my imagination and I was being paranoid. Either way, it wasn't worth the risk. "Why can't I look at it?"

I tilted my head at her and gave her wordless look of warning. She didn't budge.

"...Are you embarrassed?"

For the first time in a long time, yes, and she was grinning unabashedly at the idea. "I did say please."

Her expression softened, and she pulled out the folder, expertly and exaggeratedly putting the paper amongst the others and handing the file back to me. "You're no fun," she pouted. I frowned and pointedly took the item from her and placed it atop the refrigerator behind me amongst curiously rising laughter. "From the way you looked at that thing, you'd think I could stick it down my shirt and you'd dive right in."

I turned around, feeling a hotness wash over my face. Suddenly swept away by another dizzying wave, and I couldn't tell if it was Tifa or the alcohol that was making my stomach flutter uncontrollably. As I walked back to her, I gave her my best look of disapproval, a pathetic mockery of something that had stopped grown men dead in their tracks in times past, reduced to a mere grimace in her presence.

Her initial laughter died down to intermittent bursts and her smile grew radiant with satisfaction. "You're a little red there, Vincent."

I placed my hands on the counter on either side of her, arms tensed and leaning down to cover my blush with my long bangs as I swayed idly in front of her, repositioning my feet as many times as it took to keep distracted enough to simply not look at her. I could use the support anyway, given my unforeseen state, but it was as good of an excuse as any to be near that glorious sound. "...After a comment like that?" I asked, unable to hide the amusement in my voice and still unable to take unbridled joy in the fact that she was comfortable enough to say such things around me.

"See?" she said. "My choices _do_ affect you!" Another laugh. "Thank the gods for that, though. I was beginning to fear we'd finally gotten to the point where I could run around naked and you'd never notice."

_What_? Why would she ever think _that? _I might have died, once upon a time, but I still had a pulse. I chanced a look at her through the hair that overshadowed my eyes, blush be damned, to find that she had been staring at the top of my head.

Tifa reached out to brush my bangs aside, something she'd done before, but it felt somehow _different_ this time. She looked almost skittish as her eyes searched mine, but she pressed her lips into a tight line, and then it was gone. "The image popped into my head one day, and I thought it was so funny," she said, smiling softly and shrugging, her gaze shifting to my left hand on the counter. "I've always been so comfortable around you. But then, I realized that thought bothered me. And I think I know why."

I'd always done my best to make sure she felt at ease with me, but I could hardly say the same for myself. She could tie my stomach in knots with one look - _that one, right there _- and what she had been going through had plunged me into a world of confusion and worry. But she was still there, smiling, and her eyes were back on me.

"I guess I had to know. Was that bad of me? Last night?" Her voice broke off near the end of the question, and I could see her smile alternate between nervous, frowning twitches and forced solidarity, but I caught her words.

The kiss. "To be honest," I said quietly, "I thought you would have forgotten."

Her smile was renewed, but then it faltered again into something wistful. "That's not something I would forget, Vincent. I..." A deep breath and a sharp exhale. "I planned that." She swallowed. "But that's not what I asked."

I straightened up in front of her, fighting the gellatinous waver in my knees as she waited for my surprise to subside, trying to disguise the worried hope in her eyes. "The kiss itself," I asked, "or that we let it happen?"

Hope was restored in that moment, and her mouth twitched into a humored grin. "There's a difference?"

I suddenly realized that by making the distinction, I'd backed myself into the aforementioned proverbial corner. "...Cloud was the difference."

She leaned forward, peering up into my face. "Then...you liked the kiss," she concluded, with a finite smile that I couldn't argue with if I tried.

My mind began to race. What did she mean by asking - or rather, telling - me that? I couldn't very well deny it, but I didn't want to jeopardize the peace I'd created for myself with her. I simply stood there, blinking at her in indecision, searching her face for some sign that she would make some further move so I didn't have to.

But that wasn't Tifa. Tifa Lockheart always let others have their way, always took a step back whenever her choices would affect anyone else. She let others direct, and she willingly followed, content to share in their joy and afraid of the consequences of any hasty decision when it came to someone else's fate. So afraid of damning others that she had to think twice about an attempt at salvation.

And yet...

Stiff fingers reached up to grasp my shirt - _her shirt _- and gently tugged at the material, idly fingering it as her eyes shyly lifted to mine, hovering over my mouth for a moment inbetween. Dear_ gods_, she was going to kiss me. I barely had time to notice that I was leaning in, mesmorized at the way her cautious eyes darted from my eyes to my mouth and back again, pausing and waiting, before I realized that I'd missed any chance of protest I'd had, and I felt her lips brush up against my own.

My eyelids fluttered shut at the feel of her mouth on mine, just barely touching, her hands curling and uncurling around the material at my chest in a soothing rhythm. I was fading fast, but I was conscious enough to know that my bottom lip fit perfectly flush against the rift between hers, aware of the way her dry skin tugged ever so slightly at mine when it was dragged over and back, and I fought the urge to pull her closer. Instead, my tension left me in an unsteady sigh, breaking the rigid seal on my mouth, and as she parted her lips, a chill worked its way through my body at the warm breath mingling in the space between us.

She pulled away for a moment, and at the loss of skin I opened my eyes to look at her. Her half-lidded eyes roamed my face as she lifted a hand to my cheek, her thumb skimming over the surface, fueling the ache in my chest as she smoothed down one of my eyebrows. "You're not such a mystery," she said, her hand slipping back, sliding through my hair, fingernails stopping to curl at the nape of my neck like they'd done at my chest. She pulled me down again, and her mouth returned, just pausing and pulling back ever so slightly to still us both. "I know you want this," she breathed hot against the corner of my mouth, her nose trailing its way back over my cheek as her breath subsided and she pressed her forehead to mine. "It's written all over your body."

I was already dizzy with heat and clouded mind, leaning into her. Forehead to forehead, nose to nose, mouths so close I could nearly taste her, my breath caught in my throat and my eyes fell shut again when I felt one of her legs slip in between mine. I gasped as she began to move slowly upward against my thighs until her knee brushed against my growing erection. Her hands fell to my hips, pulling me closer as she leaned forward, dipping her knee between my legs and deliberately rubbing her thigh against me.

No, I realized as she pressed into me, there was no way I could hide it from her. And she'd known.

"Oh, gods..."

A low moan tore its way from my throat as I relaxed against her touch, noses brushing tenderly against one another. Her toes crept along the back of my leg, and I had to bite back the cry that threatened to rupture as she used her leg to pull me even tighter to her, lead weight throbbing heatedly against the steady friction. Her breath shuddered at my reponse, and a shiver ran down my spine, spreading cold sweat through my limbs. Her open mouth ghosted over mine, and I felt the every vibration of her lips as she drew them together and softly murmured, "I want to taste you again," wetting her mouth and dragging her lower lip under her teeth. My jaw tightened, and I swallowed the aching lump in my throat.

Tifa's lips were chapped and wet with that terrible flavour, like syrup mingling with rubbing alcohol, and I couldn't get enough of it. Her hands smoothed their way up from my hips, over my abdomen, fingers exploring my shaking chest and travelling further upward as I opened my mouth to her, reaching around to wrap an arm around her lower back and to fist my other hand in her hair. Again I was assaulted with apple fragrance and the familiar scent of Tifa as her hair curtained coolly over my skin. Her tongue slid over mine, slow and lenient and waiting for me to join in her rhythm as she lazily stroked the back of my head with her fingers.

Her busy hands began to roam back down my body, and the fingers of one hand hooked into the loose waistline of my pants, settling there. She tugged at the material, an abrupt jerk that broke the kiss, and I nudged her chin with my nose, traveling up her jawline to rake at her earlobe with my teeth and worry the spot behind with my tongue. She gasped aloud next to my ear, a pleasant sensation that made the hairs on my arm and neck stand up and spread a wave of tremors through my body that caused every single pore to shudder with satisfaction. I grabbed her hips and pulled her to me, and her breath hitched again _with my name _when I pressed into her, gradually pulling her from the countertop to stand in front of me.

She slid away from the surface, and an image from the previous night flashed into my head - she slipping from the pool table, her skirt riding up her curvaceous backside - and I wanted nothing more than to slide those jeans just past her hips, enough that I could brush my palms over her magnificent thighs and make her feel what she'd done to me without the rough denim barrier.

Tifa was balancing high on her toes when she hit the floor, and as she leaned into me, my unprepared feet stumbled backwards, and her body crashed against mine. Her weight crushed me to the refrigerator; I heard the flat palm of her hand slam up against the door beside me as she caught herself, but another wave of heat arrowed through me at the pressure of her body, and it was forgotten. Her mouth pressed against my throat as she whispered her apology into my adam's apple, a half-humored, "Sorry about that," reverberating down to my chest.

She teased my skin with her slippery tongue and my hands drifted up and over her hips, clinging at the fabric of her shirt as I traced the path of her gentle curves, baring her stomach as I brushed over her voluptuous breasts. She moaned softly and sank against my chest, her cheek pressed to the base of my neck, open mouth and teeth lazily grazing my collarbone through the material. One hand wriggled its way underneath the shirt, stroking my skin and upsetting the hairs on my abdomen as she smoothed her way up. She scratched at the center of my chest and then two fingers trailed down my torso, skipping against my clammy flesh as she went before crawling - literally creeping, nails and all - beneath my clothing to rest her hand against my swollen member.

"Tifa..."

Her palm was already slick with sweaty heat, and I gave her breast an instinctual squeeze, moaning as my head fell back with a muted, hollow thud and I sank further into the cool plastic shell behind me. She pressed her chest against mine, and my hand fell away to skirt down the small of her back and clutch at her hip as she closed the distance and her hand began to move between us. I hissed at the feel of my skin sliding back and forth under her touch, and I shut my eyes tightly, gasping for air as they rolled back in my head.

Tifa's breath cut the air around my neck as she moaned against my raised chin, and her other hand ran itself through my hair, tracing my face with a delicacy that had my lungs burning. "Oh, Vincent..." she whispered, "that's what I wanted to see. Gods, you're beautiful..."

My knees buckled. Sliding down the door, my wobbling limbs somehow remembered to stiffen, and I straightened, bursts of green and pink lights exploding behind my eyes. They shot open, and my vision was blurred with heat and breathlessness, drunkenness and the unmistakable wave I was riding. Prickling heat spread over my back as my chest exploded with near-laughter and my lazy head lolled to the side, looking at her through the black mess in my eyes. "Look who's talking," I managed with a slight grin, before she wrapped her hand firmly around me, drawing my skin tight and choking me full to the tip, her thumb smoothing dripping fluid over the head, warm and wet. I hitched again, caught between stretching up and out and relaxing against the cold surface amidst anxious gasps and gratified moans as I rode each pulsing crest.

"That's it," she coaxed softly. "Oh..."

I was dazedly thrilled, bonelessly content and satisfied one moment, and tensely crying out the next. Fingers ran down my face and stopped to trace my lips, and I kissed them lightly, catching one of them between my teeth and running my tongue over the smooth skin. She stopped working at my shaft, and my eyes trailed up her arm to find her transfixed on her fingertip in my mouth. Her eyes locked with mine and I relaxed my hold, the pounding in my ears getting louder by the second. Then her hand was gone, working with the other at the zipper of my slacks, pausing only momentarily to suck the end of her thumb clean.

That was enough for me. I grabbed her wrists once she'd exposed me and pulled her to the appliance, moving from my position to press against her. I immediately slackened my hold on her arms at the sound of her surprised whimper, letting them fall where they may as I muffled her mouth with mine. It was a heavy lean as I fought to root myself to the ground without breaking contact with her warm body. I snaked one hand beneath her shirt to cup her breast, brushing my fingers one by one over the nipple jutting out through scratchy fabric, and groaned at the feel of her soft stomach against my erection. I dipped low, unbalanced, grinding into her with the humbling thought in mind that she would feel _even better from the inside_...

I unbuttoned her jeans and pulled the zipper down one-handedly as I ran the other through her tresses, marvelling at the way her jaw worked against mine beneath my thumb. I slid my palms over her hips, grasping the material and sliding it away to reveal perfectly smooth, unblemished skin and black lace. I blinked, my sight quickly becoming an unfocused haze. I couldn't help thinking that maybe she had planned the whole thing, but reaching down and finding she had already soaked through the material, I decided that whatever her reasons were, they could wait until the morning.

Broken whispers and questing hands were lost in a fray of sights and sounds as we stumbled towards the bedroom. Everything else blurred together as we tugged and grasped for each other, tangling in our clothes as we shed them and falling helplessly over one another onto the bed. I vaguely remember banging my shin against something, but she'd just laughed and pulled me to her, enveloping me in welcoming arms and shifting until she was above me, insistent that I make the sound _she loved so much_, because she _needed to hear it_...

How I wish I could remember the details that accompanied her warmth or caught the smile she might have worn as she drifted off to sleep afterward. But there was darkness, so much darkness flooding in from every direction; she was near and she was far, and she was _never close enough_, and all I could think about was keeping my mouth pressed against hers, no matter where she was. As long as I kept that contact, I could forget just for one night the reason that had brought her to me in the first place, could push to the farthest recesses of my mind the frightening realization that the night we shared might never come again. As long as her mouth was on mine, _on me_, we belonged to each other.

§

_**Nov. 10, 2006: **If you're squirming right now, do me one favor. Just...stick it out for one more chapter. This has a point to it, and I'm closer than ever to the main theme of the story, so don't get scared or think I lost my mind. If the scene turned you off, I'm sorry, but I really don't want you to miss out on what's coming up in the next two chapters._

_That said, I want to know what you DID think about it. So don't be shy._

_Thanks to Motchi and Bleuwyn for proofing the final draft, and to Tiramisu for her encouragement._


	11. Plan B

**11**

**Plan "B"**

It was still dark when I awoke, a heavy weight on my chest the first evidence that I was not alone in my bed. Soft tresses pooled around my neck, and as I struggled to shake my head free from the strands catching in my mouth and tickling my nose, I found myself looking through bleary eyes at Tifa's face next to mine.

Such a delicate and soft profile for such a strong and seemingly unbreakable woman. Smooth and unblemished skin, not yet one wrinkle in that forehead of hers, despite the many worries she'd endured. The gentle slope of her nose complimented high cheek bones and a rounded, cherub-like face. She was the perfect picture of innocence as she slept, her sweet-smelling head draped back over my shoulder.

Beautifully dark hair and lashes, black on white like the piano she'd set up in the darkest corner of the bar. Her pale throat was open to me, and I could have easily run my mouth over her skin from shoulder to ear. By the gods, she had the most graceful neck I'd ever seen. Her lips were ragged from the autumn wind and there was not a string of tension to be found in them, and in the soft light filtering in from the hallway, I thought I could make out the near-invisible splash of freckles under her eyes, though that might have been my memory filling in the blanks.

I breathed her in deeply, memorizing the way she looked and smelled lying above me, soft to the touch and heavy with sleep as she inhaled and exhaled in a steady rhythm, breasts rising and falling with the faintest of sounds. She was perfect. How I would ever manage to let her go, I couldn't comprehend.

My thoughts on the hours previous were disoriented, but as I slowly emerged from my sleep-ridden state, they returned with more clarity. All I really needed was an image, or a sound. All I had to do was think about how much I'd needed her, and I didn't have any trouble remembering how I'd had her, if only for one night.

But it hadn't been the first time I'd wanted her, and I'd thought about the day in question several times before. And when I'd imagined her, writhing beneath me in joy and ecstasy, breaking down _for me, _and melting _into me_...I hadn't thought it would be reduced to something so commonplace as this.

I'd somehow thought it would be softer, tender and memorable, and above all, sober. A sobering, humbling experience that I'd expected to shatter all my walls to pieces and bring my spirit to its very knees for her alone. Instead I was left feeling like I'd robbed the both of us of the experience, and I didn't even know how she felt about it.

I turned my face from her in disgust of what I'd allowed myself to do, and my eyes caught the faintest glint of something crumpled lying on the nightstand, obscured by the dark of the room. Curious, I reached out to touch it, and I held it up in front of my face for examination. Torn and crinkling cellophane was the most pleasant sound that greeted me, and I felt my heart skip a beat, thanking the gods for the insulting brown paper bag I never thought I'd use. In fact, it hadn't even crossed my mind until then, but when I looked at the wrapper in my hand, I could just barely remember a moment where I was hesitating, looking for something. Yes, that must have been it.

We'd stumbled through dim lighting into the darkened bedroom. I was dizzy and tired of waiting, but swimming with confusion I wasn't willing to address and not quite excited enough. I remembered hungry kisses and teasing pauses and groping hands. I remembered stilling beneath her, and she'd said something I couldn't recall. And then there was the bright light of the bedside lamp and searching around in the drawer, and then the light was gone again. I don't remember putting it on, but I do remember wrapping my arms around her from behind and pulling her down with me. And it was slow and lazy, and I was so outside myself but aware enough to know what was going on, even to the point of hesitation. But I'd made my choice regardless. And then I'd been so drowsy and content in just having her lie above me. The details were fuzzy, but there was no question as to what exactly had happened. And then the moment faded away into blackness.

It had only been a couple of drinks, but they had been strong, and I'd not eaten since lunch. It was foolish of me; I should have known better than to drink with her, especially given her state and my feelings toward her. And, regardless of the fact that it was _she_ who got under _my_ skin, there was still Cloud. She'd said she was through with him, but she didn't seem certain enough, and she hadn't been thinking clearly. I, on the other hand, had less to drink. I could have said no. I _should have _said no. But I didn't, and while I'd been certain weeks before that she and Cloud didn't have a chance of making things right, I knew that if ever there were that chance, I'd taken it from her.

My breath caught in my throat at the undeniable sensation as she shifted above me. I stifled a groan as her hips rocked back against mine, and her back arched, her perfect breasts protruding in the dim light filtering in from the hallway. The room's air was cool despite the heater, and it moved to fill the gaps between us. I was assaulted with the smell of sex, apples and sweat-cooled skin as our bodies slid together, and when it was finally too much to bear, I indulged in a quiet moan.

Though it wasn't as if there was any hiding from her, I was still caught off-guard by her gasp and the long silence that followed.

"...Vincent?"

Her voice was quiet in the dark, a meek venture from bated breath that suggested she needed some evidence that what we'd done had really transpired to shock her awake. I could feel the seconds stretch by, suspended in time and aware of every sensation as the tips of her hair began to itch at my sweaty neck and her solid flesh began to suffocate my every pore. I wanted nothing more than to sink into the mattress and fade away, but there was no hiding from her, and the very idea that I should want to added to my shame.

The worst part of all of it was not knowing what was to happen next. There was no sense of blatantly honest security, no given that there would be no damage, no promise that there would be another time. I should have been ecstatic to be waking up inside of Tifa, but I was too distracted to hold onto even that moment by the horror of knowing that everything was all wrong.

I swallowed my apprehension, throat suddenly dry and heart pounding as other urges were stirring to life again, and quietly acknowledged her request with the most non-descript sound possible. "Mmm?" There was barely enough lilt in my voice to signify it as a question, but I was willing to trust that, even if she misread me, I wouldn't suffer for it.

"We-"

"Yeah."

She'd answered me with equally soft tones, and I was inclined to think that I hadn't really needed to reply. I was willing to bet that she was more surprised by herself than by the situation, and by the fact that I'd been so receptive. Too distracted by the sudden realization that it was actually happening to fully enjoy it, a part of her had been so far away from me during the times that I could remember vividly enough to recognize it. It wasn't that she'd forgotten that we'd been together at all, but that she hadn't really expected it, and she was still caught off guard when she found herself waking up with me.

Tifa slowly relaxed into my body, and I felt her tension slowly dissipate, then rise, then dissipate again. She opened her mouth to speak, but shut it before starting, and her head fell to the side as she contemplated the empty spot next to where we were laying. I felt her breath still as she held it, hesitating and then placing her hands on either sides of my hips, just barely grazing the skin as she attempted to lift herself up and away from me. But her weight shifted uncomfortably, and I bit back a groan as my hand flew to clutch at her side on reflex.

She caught herself with her hands, and I felt my heart beating wildly in my chest as I breathed a quiet, "Careful," to her in the near dark. I could pinpoint the exact moment when she remembered to breathe again, the rise and fall of her chest without rhythm as she seemed to alternate between holding perfectly still and fighting a losing battle for control.

Almost without thinking, my arms came up around her, and wrapped around her waist and chest. I held her to me in an effort to be helpful, but in no way forceful, as I rolled the both of us onto our sides. And as I pulled away from her, slowly sliding out from inside her warm body, she made an unforgettable sound that I remember even to this day. She sounded like something was breaking from the inside out, like no matter how hard I tried to keep from destroying it, it was destined to crumble from a place I could not touch. Upon hearing it, I committed it to memory, and I had to force myself not to give into the urge to press up against her and bury myself beneath her skin again.

All I wanted was to hold her, to be a solid, warm embrace in a time of confusion. But with her back suddenly to me as it was, I felt it was not my right. Gods, how she was beautiful, untouchable, vivacious curves in the dark and the winding path her graceful spine took from her neck to her hips, legs that seemed to stretch on forever.

But there was something not quite right about the way the air hit my skin. Namely, it should not have been hitting my skin in the places which it was. As I adjusted the sheets to cover the both of us, I chanced a look at myself.

_Damn!_

It had broken. Suddenly I found all my previous fears lifted, only to be replaced with more current ones. The fact that I'd slept with her was nothing, compared to the knowledge that I would have to explain to her that the only protection we'd used had failed. And I didn't know where to begin.

It was at that moment that Tifa rolled over to face me, clutching sheets and blanket against her full, inviting breasts, and I did everything I could not to lean forward and seek their warmth. "I'm sorry," she said. "For-"

"Don't." I didn't want her apologizing to me, especially with the thoughts that were running through my head. I'd wanted her for a long time, and I'd loved her for even longer. And I'd been just as at fault as she, if not more; though I'd been intoxicated the night before, less than half of that was because of drink. And I'd known what I was doing, even after my light head and empty stomach had gotten the best of me.

"But-"

"There's no need for apologies," I said.

"Vincent, I took advantage."

I shifted onto my back and stared at the ceiling fan. "I'm an adult, Tifa. And quite in control of myself." Not really. I was surprisingly easy around her; it had been building up for what seemed like forever, and the only thing standing in the way of perfect disaster had been Cloud. And at the first mention of that uncertain end, I had fallen prey to my weakness. But that wasn't her fault.

"I shouldn't have brought the rum over."

"I know what liquor does, Tifa." I sighed. "If anyone should be apologizing, it's me. You were in a vulnerable position; I'd had few enough drinks to maintain a buzz. I wasn't impaired, only my judgement was. I knew what I was doing, and-"

"I should shake some sense into you," she muttered, rolling back herself. "Let's not forget who started it."

My head fell to the side, enough that I could study her profile in the dark. "You didn't see me putting up much of a fight, did you?"

"Well, maybe I knew you wouldn't."

I blinked. "...What?"

"Nothing," she said, frowning in the dark. She sat up then, taking the sheet with her, leaning her forehead into her palm. "Gods, I don't know what I'm doing." She sat still for a moment, and I resolved to simply give her the time she needed to think. Then, more to herself than anything else, she began anew. "What time is it?" She glanced past me to the clock on the nightstand, murmuring "Three in the morning" to herself, followed by, "Didn't even call. Why should I care?"

_Cloud._

"Y'know?" I realized then that she had been talking to me after all. "I mean," she continued, "for someone who acts so afraid that I'd sleep around behind his back, he sure doesn't seem too worried. Never even called once to see where I was, or if I was even all right. Maybe he's already up and gone somewhere and forgotten all about it."

I hesitated. "...I don't think he can forget you so easily. He's just stubborn."

"Tell me about it," she grimaced. "I know he doesn't really even think I'd cheat on him. But if he has something to throw back at me, then I can't be going around accusing him of things. Double standards and all."

I'd slipped back into that familiar role of counselor, before I'd even noticed. It was easier that way, to ignore that she was lying in bed, naked with me, grieving over her relationship with Cloud. And I was right there by her side, spouting off whatever small tidbits of useless information she already knew that I could, because all she really needed was someone to listen, to nudge where she would let them. Because she already had her answers.

"But I can't do that again," she said. "No. I need to figure so many things out..." She put a hand to her forehead. "No more mistakes. I think I used up my last one tonight."

"I told you, that was-"

_-nothing, just a broken heart-_

"Vincent, I've seen the way you look at me. You try to hide it, but it comes so naturally." She turned her head to look at me in the dark, and I can't imagine for the life of me what my eyes must have done. "And I like that. But that's not all, is it?" She ran a hand through her hair and muffled her face against the pillow. "Hell, I am _so_ confused," she cried, strangled and frustrated. "And I knew. I knew it, but all I wanted was to forget everything, and unfortunately, my common sense went with it. I wanted you, just like I have for the longest time, but I forgot why I shouldn't, and it was just so easy..."

She'd wanted me. _For the longest time_. That I wasn't expecting.

"I'm so stupid," she breathed. "No going back now. It's not like I can pretend nothing ever happened here. I've got so much to think about..."

She leaned a little in my direction, resting her head against my arm in a most unnatural way. It was awkward, the way she arched her back toward me as I turned to face her, offering a slight hug to reassure her. Only touching with face and arms, like it was so wrong for us to be touching, naked, but needing the comfort of a friend she was so used to depending on.

She was a wreck. She knew she didn't want to go through what she went through with Cloud again, but she didn't say she wasn't going to give him another try. Though I'd be hard pressed to imagine how that would turn out, given what had happened between us. But 'want' didn't mean 'love', and clearly there was a reason she thought she shouldn't have, but she hadn't said what it was. I didn't think I wanted to know.

I just wanted to salvage a few hours of sleep, to forget for just a small window of time the damning ordeal that we would face in the morning. To forget that her patching things up with Cloud might mean that I would never see her again. But there was still one more matter in which time couldn't be afforded.

"Tifa, I don't know how to tell you this," I started, never having been in the situation before and not knowing how to address it, "but the condom we used...broke." Blunt, but hopefully it would soon be over.

Her head shot up, and she stared blankly at the headboard like someone who had just remembered that there was something important they were supposed to do. "I'd forgotten all about that," she numbly worded. "I didn't even remember using one." A pause. "I can't believe I hadn't even thought to worry about it, even though I'm here worrying about everything else."

I blushed when she reached down underneath the covers, presumably to check herself, nevermind that we were still both naked together. How things had changed since I'd first opened my eyes. "...I don't feel anything," she said.

That couldn't be. I was certain.

"Wait."

_And there it was. _I narrowed my eyes. "What are you doing?"

"Maybe I should shower."

"It might make you feel better," I said, "but it won't help now."

"...What should I do?"

I looked at her lazily, in hopes of calming her down. "Get some rest," I said. "There's a women's clinic not too far from here. We'll go there first thing in the morning."

She seemed to be thinking. "Okay." She settled back down into the bed slowly. "Thank you," she murmured softly.

I grinned ruefully in the dark. "I don't quite know what to say to that." _Anytime?_

"Then don't say anything," she said. "Just..."

She nestled her head underneath of my chin, still uncomfortably twisted away from me as she laid inches across the sheets. I wanted to pull her close. I needed her, and she needed me, but somehow I didn't think it was in the same way. And I knew my time was over.

Eventually, she pulled some of the sheets down between us and moved in, curling against my chest. Nothing sexual about it anymore, just comforting. Because I was the one who was steady, unwavering. I already knew what I wanted, unlike her, which made it all the more easy for me.

Only not.

§

When next I opened my eyes, pale sunlight was streaming in through the window blinds. I didn't yet hear any sound coming from inside the apartment, so I turned over, expecting to find Tifa dozing beside me.

She was wide awake, sitting propped against the headboard and staring off into space. The sheets were still clutched to her chest, and it was hard to ignore the way they were pressed against her, lifting and accentuating her gorgeous assets, her skin shimmering pleasantly in the light of early morning, hair falling over her shoulders. Hard to resist brushing that hair away, to sit up and nuzzle her neck and nip at her ear and tell her how much I loved waking up beside her.

Because that was how I'd envisioned that morning, whenever I'd thought about it previously. But that had quickly become another time and place meant only for dreams, and it was too late to change it. Circumstances wouldn't permit me to have the morning I'd wanted with her. And that was our first.

"Did you sleep?"

Steady eyes returned my gaze, and I suspected she'd known I was awake. It probably wasn't the first time she'd laid eyes on me that morning either, given the strange position we were in. But she hadn't made for the shower, hadn't reached for her phone. She was still sitting there with me, thinking, patiently waiting for me to wake up so that we could rush off to prevent yet another disaster.

"...Not really." Her voice was quiet, subdued.

"You look tired."

She sighed. "In more ways than one."

I sat up in bed, running my hand through my hair and trying to ignore the distinct scent in the room. I didn't know how to begin a conversation with her. Suddenly we were different people, on unfamiliar ground, and yet we were so attuned to each other that it was painful.

"I guess we shouldn't waste time," she said. She then bent over the side of the bed, several inches of her back exposed to me as she grasped around for her undergarments. She pulled them up, underneath the sheets, and struggled to put them on without baring herself. Then she slipped out from under the covers and crouched down to gather her jeans.

She was denim and black lace, smooth skin and sweetly scented hair. And she was so untouchable. I couldn't help but glance at her every so often as she pulled those jeans up over her hips. I wanted to run my palm down her stomach and still her hand, to pull her back down with me and show her everything I truly felt, to warm her troubled soul until she forgot about everything that had hurt her. But I didn't think I could undo what had been done there, at least not yet.

She had come to me, looking like that. Fresh and clean-smelling, soft and clean-shaven. And I wanted to ask - gods, how I wanted to - if she had known we were going to end up in bed together when she'd left for my place. I'd be more than convenient in the way of getting back at Cloud, but I knew Tifa wasn't malicious like that. But it didn't stop me from wondering if she'd known all along, or if she'd decided right there in my apartment. Maybe she'd brought the liquor to help her decide. Or maybe, in her uninhibited state, she'd mistakenly reasoned that sleeping with me would stop her from going back to Cloud.

"Did you want breakfast?" I asked, as she pulled on her shirt. "...Or a shower?" It might not have been the morning I'd wanted with her, but I still didn't want a messy, abrupt ending. "We actually have plenty of time."

Tifa sat down on the edge of the bed and turned sideways to look at me. "Not really. I just want to get there and get it over with. I'll feel much better once I know it's taken care of."

She retreated to the living room to wait for me, and I retreated to the bathroom to painstakingly peel the remnants of latex from my skin.

The elevator ride down to the parking lot was quiet.

§

The waiting room at the clinic was furnished with overstuffed couches of a deceptively serene, grayish blue and waxy, green foliage; the irridescent glow of the television reflected off the plastic leaves and disappeared before reaching the thin expanse of cheap carpeting. At once, all eyes turned to the doorway where we stood, and I felt the accusing stares of the nurses from every corner of the room.

_Irresponsible villain._

Tifa approached the nurse's station; I wanted to follow - I was responsible - but I didn't want to hover, so I took a seat on one of the couches and idly scanned the room, less than comfortable. When she came back to sit next to me, I was more than a little frustrated with myself as I noticed all my limbs - my arms, my legs - had folded of their own volition in her absence.

In her hands she held a clipboard and some paperwork. She glanced my way and gave a quick, lopsided smile before she began to fill it out, and with nothing else to do, I turned my attention to the magazines on the coffee table. Homemakers, baby and family; I thought it odd that the majority of the periodicals in an abortion clinic should be so child-oriented, but my sense of humor always was a bit dark.

About halfway through an article on television's effect on school yard violence, I heard a soft voice near my side.

"...Vincent?"

It was the apprehension with which she said my name that caught my attention. I put down the magazine, turning to see a most uneasy face not quite staring back at me. Tifa was holding the clipboard out to me, gnawing on her lip as if there was something she felt she couldn't quite ask me, sure that I would deny her. I set my concern aside and tried to look as inviting as possible, relaxing against the cushions and softening my voice. "Hmm?"

She frowned. "Uh..."

I was not a fan of sentences that Tifa started with "Uh". Most of the time, anyways.

When I warily reached for the paperwork, she was quick to fumble for an explanation. "I just thought you should take a look at this," she said, "since...well."

It was a waiver. I glanced at her carefully before perusing the paper; there was something indescribable in her eyes, wet with muddled indecision, and at the time I didn't recognize the cause for what it was - the fear that this would destroy us, rather than the fear of actually having a child together - and turned my attention from her face to the words in front of me.

The paragraphs above the solid line at the bottom of the sheet still awaiting her signature stated in no uncertain terms that, if she signed the waiver, the clinic was absolved of all blame, should the method fail. In addition, she could not take any action against them, should it work only _partially_. Meaning that if her body was receptive to me the previous night, and the pill didn't work, then there was a chance that we would have a severely damaged child.

The risk was extremely thin, but I don't deal in chance; I never have, save for at the card table. But such things were never as serious as what I was facing with Tifa. And I couldn't even begin to think about the possibility without first trying to picture it. If she and I had a child together, what would it look like? Would it be a boy or a girl? Would he be athletic, musical, or a bookworm? What would her first words be? And then there was the most beautiful vision of even-toned, pale olive skin and dark hair, bright eyes staring back at me over a splash of freckles on a sun-kissed nose, and I swear I heard laughter.

I shuddered to think that another one of my sins would end up hurting yet another child. But what else could I do? I wracked my brain for a possible solution, knowing there was none. And then, if only in my head, I did begin dealing in chance, if only to avoid the risk. What were the odds that she was indeed pregnant? She would have to be ovulating, and if she were, she would only be fertile for three days at the most. Sperm only lasted for two days in such an environment, so I figured we had less than a five day window, tops, out of thirty possible days until she knew for certain.

And I only knew these things because once upon a time, I'd been so in denial that Lucrecia's son wasn't my own, that I went looking for something that would give me the slightest hint of hope, and I was devastated when the aforementioned information cinched it. Now I'm glad he wasn't mine. I'd also like to think I'm a bit wiser, but sitting there in the clinic with Tifa had me doubting it.

I was interrupted by Tifa's voice, and my mind instantly turned to thoughts of a small girl with her mother's voice. I tried to shake myself of the notion, knowing I was only making things harder and clouding my judgement. Tifa wasn't even mine to have.

"...I'm kind of scared," she admitted, almost like she thought she shouldn't be. Like she'd never thought that the first time she had to deal with pregnancy, she would be so unsure, caught behind a rock and a hard place. "It's..." and she bit out an agonized sigh, "like we're..._I'm_...damned if I do and damned if I don't."

She was right. And while I was determined to suffer whatever fate alongside her if she would have me, it was her choice. I felt entirely helpless sitting there with her, but she had handed me the paper, after all. I was confused. "I don't understand," I said. "Are you...asking me for permission? I'm not sure what you want me to say."

Tifa frowned and bit her lip, and I saw a tiny shimmer trail her cheek before she reached up to rub at it. The tears had finally spilled over, and there was a renewed pressure behind my eyes. I hadn't meant it that way; the last thing I wanted was for her to feel alone. "I just thought you should know," she whispered softly. "Because you'd be..."

_...the father._

I tentatively reached out to lift her chin. She faltered under the stare I'd worked to keep steady for her sake, the opposite of the effect I'd wanted it to have, but she only shut her eyes and chuckled lightly through a crooked, nervous smile. She was beautiful, and I wanted to tell her so, but it wasn't the time. "I know," I said softly. "I would be. And I mean that. I wouldn't leave you to deal with this all on your own." I wiped at her eye with my thumb, and she peeked out at me through the other. "But this is your decision," I said firmly. "I can't tell you what to do. You would be the one to go through it all. But I'll stick by whatever decision you wish to make."

Her expression softened gratefully, and she rushed to hug me. I was caught off guard, and we both sunk into the plush covering. "Thank you," she sighed, leaning against my chest. As I sat there holding her, thinking on these things, trying to ignore that she still smelled like me, she voiced another question. "...What do you think we should do?"

_We. _Through it all she was trying to tell me that she didn't want me to feel slighted or helpless, but I wanted her to know that it was completely up to her. And she was asking for advice. The only things I could think of to consider, I'd already gone over in my head. "What do you think the odds are," I ventured, "that you're..." I trailed off, at a loss for direction. "What I mean to ask is," I swallowed hard, "how are we on...timing?"

Her head lifted, brow creased with worry as she winced. Not good. "It's been two weeks since my last cycle."

Shit, I couldn't help thinking. Crap, shit, fuck.

"Vincent," she was quick to add, heading off my train of thought, if it could be called that, "I don't want to have a deformed baby."

Then she really wasn't going to like what I had to say. "Tifa," I sighed, resting my chin atop her head, "I can't say how viable my chromosomes are to begin with."

"...What do you mean?"

"I mean that...while I may have begun to age, and everything seems to have returned to normal for me, I don't have a clue about the state of my genetic reproduction."

She blinked up at me.

I breathed deeply, finding it harder to admit than I would like. "I'm assuming I can. I just...don't know how it might turn out."

"Oh." She seemed to be considering things for a moment. "But the pill won't be helping any, if I stay pregnant."

"We don't know that you are in the first place."

"But if I am, and the pill doesn't work, then how will we know if anything bad that might happen is because of it, or because of...well-?"

I frowned. "Are you wanting to just wait and see what happens?"

She definitely stopped breathing for a few seconds, because I felt the absence of it. "Vincent, if I'm still pregnant in a week, it's final. I don't think I could ever bring myself to get rid of your baby, even if I'm not ready. But if there's something terribly wrong..."

I was touched by her words, but I didn't want her to make up her mind on my account. "Tifa, the chance that this pill won't work is extremely slim."

She was still and quiet. Then, she reached for the clipboard I still held in one hand, and slid the tip of the pen across its surface. "You're right."

§

They'd given her two pills, to be taken twelve hours apart. She had been told that she could take them anytime she wanted, but that both of them had to be in her system within seventy-two hours of the 'incident', as they'd so affectionately called it. She was currently holding the both of them in her lap, still in the packet. Tifa seemed oddly calm about the entire situation, some otherworldly peace descended on her, and I had no idea how she had undergone such a transformation during the short time we were in the lab.

She hadn't wanted to take them right away. Something about nausea and stress and waiting until after dinner. I didn't ask questions, because she had been more than willing to deal with the consequences either way, and I had to respect that.

"Vincent?" she asked. "Would you mind dropping me off a couple blocks away?"

Here I frowned. "Tifa, I'm not afraid of Cloud."

"Okay. Vincent? Pull over. We need to talk this out."

I did pull over. We were only minutes away from Tifa's place, and while I was dreading this conversation from the beginning, I was afraid that once she stepped into Seventh Heaven, any chance I had of trying to put things right would be long gone. I put the parking brake on and turned off the ignition. "Tifa, I don't want to be the secret you're keeping from him," I sighed.

She blinked at me. "...I told you I wasn't going back to him."

I shot her a heavy glance, not yet convinced. "And if he's waiting for you? If he wants to work things out?" I fell back against the seat and stared at the roof of the car, face relaxing, voice quieting. "I want for you to be happy," I said, "but I also don't want to never see you again."

Peripherally, I saw Tifa shake her head. "Vincent, that's not going to happen. I wouldn't let that happen."

"Are you going to tell him?"

She paused. "...Yes."

"You smell like me, you know."

Her mouth inched up in some wistful, perhaps regretful, smile. "I know. And...I want him to know."

I blinked. "...Is that why you came over? To get back at-"

"No." She'd turned to me with such a quickness in clipping the thought short that I was a bit shocked. Her voice was firm and resolute; she wanted to drill it into my head that she hadn't used me for that. But then her face turned soft and wistful again, and I wanted to know what thoughts were running through her head as she directed her gaze back into her lap. "No," she repeated again, more quietly than before. "No." More to herself, I thought.

I wanted to believe that she wouldn't end up back in his arms not but a few hours from the time she entered through that door, but I couldn't be certain. Cloud had held such a hold on her heart for so long, and I knew that it would be much harder for her once she was actually facing him in the flesh. Though I did believe her when she'd said that whatever happened inside wouldn't destroy our friendship. Sadly, I wondered if that would come easily at the cost of keeping what had happened between us a secret. It wasn't that I doubted her honesty, but that she folded easily in Cloud's presence. I didn't know if she had it in her to look at him and still find the words to tell him that she'd done what he had so angrily accused her of before. And with no one to hold her hand.

It was true that they had broken up before she and I had slept together. But it had been less than a day. And we both knew from the previous afternoon that the thought alone had done something awful to him. I remembered how desperately he had fought, like a man who could only watch as control slipped away from him. I knew the feeling. And it was terrible.

"You can't fight my battles for me all the time," she said. "I have to learn how to do this on my own. And besides, it will just make things more complicated for everyone. Do you see what I'm trying to do here?"

I understood, and I hated it. I couldn't stand simply waiting to see what she did, knowing what she would face and being unable to stand behind her. I felt my eyebrows knit together in frustration. I wanted to scream for the helplessness I felt and for the fears I couldn't control.

"You're saying I don't have to put up a fight." I frowned. "I want you to get through this with as little trouble as possible. What I don't want is for you to go in there thinking that I didn't care enough."

Tifa's face softened, but I continued before she had the chance to voice any protests.

"I know you never asked me to, and I'm not going to try to make you return it, but I don't want you to be sitting around later, asking yourself why I didn't fight harder for the chance to stand by your side. Asking yourself why you weren't worth it, and what you can do to make me wish I'd cared more."

When I'd finished, the car was eerily silent, my heart pounding in my chest. Tifa was blinking at me, and this look - this look of sudden knowledge - passed over her face before she narrowed her eyes and pulled her neck back, recoiling as if I'd stung her. I couldn't tell if she was more hurt or surprised, and I thought I saw something else there; sadness, or pity, or perhaps just the look of someone who's stumbled upon something they'd never expected.

And I was afraid that she'd take it the wrong way, but silent still, knowing it would be pushing too far to try and defend myself, to assume what she was thinking and therefore project those thoughts onto myself. I wasn't trying to draw comparisons, but I'd jumped the gun, and somehow in that moment, I believe Tifa learned more about what had happened to me than she'd ever asked for.

She didn't seem upset, though her reply was soft and grave. "Vincent," she said, quietly, sincerely, "I would never try to hurt you." And it was true.

And I wanted to tell her that I hadn't meant for it to seem like I was comparing her to Lucrecia. It was my fault, my insecurities, but it would be a lie to say I hadn't been conditioned by that woman. Lucrecia was as irrational as she was intelligent; she was the sort of woman who would tell a man not to follow her and then be hurt that he shied away. She was the sort of woman who would break things off with a man, yet spend enough time with him so as not to lose his affections. She was the sort of woman who would tell said man that a battle wasn't his to fight, and then be upset that he hadn't persisted in fighting it for her anyway, that he hadn't pulled down the moon and all the stars in the sky just to show how much he cared. She was the sort of woman who, when told that she could do things her own way, couldn't accept it, couldn't take it in the way it was meant.

But Tifa wasn't Lucrecia, even if she couldn't make any promises. Where Lucrecia would say, "I'm sorry, I can't," Tifa would at least say, "I'll try." And I knew that when Tifa tried, she gave her all.

I sighed. "...I know."

"That's not what I meant," she continued, leaning her head back against the headrest and searching my eyes. "I'm not saying it isn't a big deal," she said. "It's a huge deal. But I'm asking you to trust me to take care of it."

I frowned, unsure of her meaning, and again I felt it wasn't time for me to ask. I could step aside and wait it out if I had to. One thing I did know; she wasn't going to leave it at that. It wasn't the end. That wasn't her meaning.

Lucrecia had been weak and confused; so quick to throw in the towel, so ready to rely on the comfort of another. And when it came down to it, she would rather run away and find some way to cover up a mistake so that it was easier to forget than to face it head-on, even if it was painful. Tifa was feeling unsure of herself as well, but I knew that when she'd made a decision, whether she was confident in it or not, she would always return to it until it was resolved. I had at least that much faith in her.

And deep down inside, I knew it wouldn't be the last time I saw her, even if she did fold in front of Cloud. No matter what form our relationship took, I knew it wouldn't be the end. There would be other ways. Tifa believed in keeping peace. She believed in ending things well.

She believed in taking the hard way out, on the chance that someone would be happy, in the hopes that everyone would be all right. Even if it meant we had to be miserable in the meantime. Tifa never simply walked away. Not like me. But I wasn't walking away this time.

It was because of this that I could let her leave without asking her for anything. I wasn't even sure what I would ask for if given the chance. I knew what I wanted, but I wasn't sure if I wanted to get it. Was I a better choice? I thought Cloud was wrong for her, but was I right for her, right then? Were we ready?

After that morning, I knew I didn't want to see her with anyone else. But I didn't really expect her to up and leave him, and run into my arms. And as long as I expected no grand declarations, I couldn't be hurt. Right. After all, that was how things had always been.

That was what I told myself as she ran her hand down the side of my face and leaned in to kiss my cheek. "I'm not going to let this become a problem," she murmured. "I'll go home and take care of it. Then I'll come and see you when I can." She wrapped her arms around me, but the embrace somehow felt like a goodbye, even though she'd said we would talk later. "...I'll get out here, I think."

"Tifa..."

It was what I'd meant to say, but no sound came out. I wanted to stop her, to take her home with me and keep her forever. Instead, I let her leave the car and shut the door behind her, adding an "And don't worry" over her shoulder, coupled with a not-so reassuring smile as she walked away.

I sat there for a good twenty minutes after watching her disappear around the corner, before I finally started the engine up again and went home to lie in the bed that we'd made.

* * *

_**Dec. 18, 2006: **Sorry for the delay again. But at least it's a fairly long update! It's been really hectic this month, what with the holidays and all, and for some reason I haven't been able to concentrate for an entire month. I've got giftfics to finish though, so hopefully I can find some way to settle down. Maybe one of you should come and steal my speakers, so I won't be tempted to surf the web when I should be typing._

_Major thanks to everyone who's been keeping up with this fic. Thanks for all the kind words of encouragement. I really do have the best reviewers._


	12. Hanging By A Thread

**12**

**Hanging By A Thread**

It took every bit of strength I had not to call Tifa that afternoon. I'd been worried about her, somehow angry with myself for letting her walk the rest of the way home after what had happened between us, knowing that even if I'd protested, she wouldn't have it any other way. But I could only lie in bed for so long in the sheets that smelled like us, together, unable to do anything about it.

By early evening, I'd nearly driven myself crazy, playing all possible outcomes over in my head. I was afraid that she would end up resigning herself to Cloud again. I was anxious over losing her to him. I was hoping against what I'd seen before, her tendency to renege on the decision she'd made so many times. I'd heard her tell me countless times that she couldn't go on living life that way, and yet, when faced with the slightest glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe things could get better, she would return to that life, thinking that if one day everything worked out for the best, then it would all be worth it.

But it wasn't going to work. Not to her happiness, and everyone else could see it but her. Yet when faced with the future and all its unknowns, I was forced to admit that I couldn't swear by that. I couldn't know for certain, not until I'd seen the end of that road for myself. And I wasn't willing to wait for that, wasn't going to see her waste her life away on the sliver of a chance that she might not be disappointed, might not feel it was all a waste when all was said and done with.

When I could take it no more, I picked up my phone and called the only person I knew who wouldn't judge me for what had happened, who would stop to see the bigger picture and realize the bigger dangers before cutting me off with a lecture.

"...Yeah?"

"Yuffie."

"Vincent! What's up?"

It felt strange, calling Yuffie on account of something so serious. I wasn't about to indulge her with details, or even reveal anything much about my reasons for calling, but I thought it odd that it had come down to her of all people, odd knowing that if she did jump to any conclusions of her own, she would be able to handle the situation as an adult. "I need to ask you for a favor."

"Uh...okay. Hey, are you all right? You're sounding all mopey again."

"Hmm." I wasn't entirely sure how much I trusted her with what I was going to ask of her, but I did know that I rathered it be her than any of the others, even Cid. That was the strangest part of all. "I need you to make a phone call for me."

Yuffie sounded skeptical. "Okay," she drawled. "Does this have anything to do with my being the Princess of Wutai? Because I have to tell you Vince, I don't have that much power yet, and I can only pull so many strings, depending on what you need me to-"

"It's nothing like that," I said, not helping the smile that grew from her assumption. "This is a personal matter."

"If it's personal, then why do you need me to...oh my gods, Vince! This is about Tifa, isn't it?"

Perhaps I'd spoken too soon. But Cid would have been a terrible idea. On second thought, Shera would have been an excellent choice. Too bad she lived with Cid.

"Lemme guess. You want to get her something special, and since you don't know anything about what girls--"

"No."

"...Is it about Tifa at all?"

I paced around the room, my long-bottled impatience getting the best of me. "Yes."

"Well, spit it out, Vincent! What are we in, the fourth grade?"

I sighed. I supposed it wasn't going to be easy, no matter how I went about it. "I need for you to call her and make sure she is all right."

"What, does she have alcohol poisoning or something?"

"No. And if that were the case, I would call her myself."

There was silence for a minute, and then I heard the phone shifting around in her hands. When Yuffie spoke next, her voice had lost all hints at playfulness. "...Then, why wouldn't she be all right?"

"I have a bad feeling."

She sighed loudly, and I heard the unmistakable sound of a squeaking mattress. "Is this your crazy bat radar going off, or did you do something?"

I heard a loud thump echo on the other line, followed by a softer, padded sound. "...I may have done something to get her into trouble." Best to choose my words carefully.

"Trouble?" _Thump_.

"With Cloud."

The noise had ceased. "_Oh_."

"Exactly."

The phone shifted around some more, and I heard the bed creak again before the thumping sound resumed its previous pattern. There was something familiar about the sound, though I couldn't quite place it. "What did you do?"

It almost irritated me that she sounded bored, but I bit my tongue, knowing I must have come across the same way plenty of times. At least I had her attention. "I let her crash at my place last night." Not how I'd put it, not my words, but the odd turn of phrase did shift the conversation away from any further implication.

More thumps, inbetween the first ones. Yuffie always did walk heel-to-toe, and she sounded like a behemoth on wooden floors. "Uh-huh."

"Yuffie, that noise is very distracting."

"What noise?"

"That thumping."

"Uh...thumping? Oh!" _Thump, thump, thump_. "Is that the noise?"

"Yes. Do you think you could stop whatever it is for just a moment?"

"Sure. It's just my tennis ball." I heard one final, loud thump followed by the lessening resonation of the ball from wherever it had been tossed on the floor.

"What do you think he will do?"

"I'm sorry, what?"

I frowned. "Yuffie, are you even paying attention?"

"Yeah, sure." _Thump, thump-thump, thump-thump_. "Tifa spent the night at your place? Yeah, I guess she's never done that before when Cloud's in town." Her breathing was sharp and her voice uneven.

"She's never done that before at all," I corrected.

"So he's freaking out, huh?" For some reason, she wasn't treating it like it was a big deal. Maybe she'd given me the benefit of the doubt and assumed I'd been a gentleman. Though from the way she would drop hints left and right whenever she saw the two of us together, it didn't seem like she thought of Cloud as Tifa's boyfriend at all, so it might not have bothered her in the slightest if she did know. We were all just a group of frie--

"Yuffie, are you herding cattle?"

A pause. "Sorry, Vincent. Can't seem to sit still."

"It sounded like you were galloping around your room."

"Yeah," she laughed. "I've got like, super-hyperactive attention span problems."

"I hadn't noticed," I deadpanned.

"Anyway," she said, "why don't you call her and find out if she's okay? It's like five in the afternoon."

I sat back down on my bed and leaned my forehead against my hand, compulsively messing with the roots of my hair. At the rate things were going, I didn't think I'd be one of the lucky few who kept his. "If I call her, and Cloud intercepts it or asks her about it, it will only make things harder for her."

"Yeah, I guess." _Creak, creak, creak_. "But when women talk on the phone, isn't it mostly gossip?"

"...I suppose." I sat up and shifted back, laying against the pillows. "Are you saying you won't do it?"

"I didn't say _that_," she quickly defended. "Does he know where she was?"

"I don't know if she's told him already or not. I'm sure he has a pretty good idea, though. She spends most of her time outside the house with me, and whenever she has a problem with Cloud, I'm the one she talks to. That, and--"

"Then he's probably figured it out."

"Right. What I can't figure out is why he wasn't banging down my door. He was so angry when he thought we were sleeping together."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Yuffie interrupted. "What did I miss?"

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Yuffie...it's a very long story."

"And you _know_ I'm all ears!"

Only Shiva knows from whence came the idea that females spend those expensive minutes on gossip. I could practically hear her settling in for the tale. Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on how one looks at it, there wasn't time to tell it. "I just want to make sure she's all right. Will you do that for me?"

Yuffie let out a sigh of obvious disappointment. "Fine," she said. "I'll do it. But you owe me big, you chicken!"

My eyes narrowed, despite the fact that she wasn't around to intimidate. "I am only trying to look out for her," I retorted. "...And thank you."

"No problem!" she exclaimed, a little loud for my ears. "Yuffie out!"

_Click_.

I shut my phone and laid it on my stomach, folding my arms beneath my head. I felt somewhat better, knowing I had done something, but there was still the anticipation in hoping I had not just opened a can of worms. I should have told Yuffie to call me back after she'd spoken to Tifa, I thought. But that was implied, wasn't it?

An agonizing fifteen minutes later, the light vibrations on my abdomen pulled me from my worries with their promise of hope. I sat up and fished the phone out of my lap, flipping it open with a rather pathetic brand of quickness.

"Hello?"

"Well, if it isn't Dumbshit with a capital 'D'!"

"Cid," I growled.

"Hey, you remembered!" he said, his voice alight with amusement and mock surprise. "Though it's funny how you can't remember any of my advice."

I blinked. "What do you know?"

"Enough to know you're a dumbshit."

I scowled at the finite tone of his voice. "Cid, I'm expecting a call, so if you don't mind--"

"From Yuffie, right?"

Well, of course. Clearly, I'd overestimated her. "Fine," I sighed. "Let's just get this over with."

Cid's voice turned suddenly sober, much like Yuffie's had done earlier when she'd thought Tifa was in trouble. "...You slept with her, didn't you?"

I waited a moment to gather my words, finding I had nothing clever to steer him away from the question. He couldn't know for certain, because I hadn't made it clear. When in doubt, play stupid. Maybe it would throw him off. "...Yuffie?"

"Tifa, you ninny. Goddamn smartass..."

I sighed, something that, coming from myself, was nothing short of an admission. "And if I did?"

A sharp exhalation of air, probably smoke-filled. "Fuck, Vince."

I laid back down against the sheets, roughly running my hand back through my hair, again tugging at its roots. "And I'm trying to find out how she is, so why don't you just go ahead and tell me where I screwed things up, so we can finish this. Or, better yet, let's not and say we did."

"...Nah."

"What?"

I heard Cid puffing on his cigarette. "You don' need me to tell you nothin' you already know. Shit, you're stupid, but you ain't _stupid_."

"I'm _not_ stupid."

"Nope." Another drag. "Just stubborn. I know you understand where I'm comin' from. But there ain't no goin' back now, much as I hate to admit it. You've got yourself in a damn fine mess here. Knew how to avoid it, too."

I sighed. "Tell me something I don't know."

"Like I said, ain't nothin' left."

"It's a figure of speech."

"You're just mad when you have t' listen to someone else give advice. You do it all the time, an' it's s'posed to mean somethin' huge, but you can't handle hearin' it. Because you already know. Vincent has all the answers, all the time. You're just damn _stubborn_."

"Fuck off."

But the remark was half-hearted, and I knew he didn't buy it. I didn't even mean it, really; I just wanted to cut the subject short. Because he was right. There was a long pause during which I wasn't able to gather any new thoughts, and I'm sure he expected just as much. When he broke the silence, I was surprised when he did say, "...For what it's worth, I hope she ends up with you."

"...You do."

"Yeah, I do. Now that all's said an' done, anyway."

I sighed. "I'm going to kill Yuffie. I asked her to do one simple thing, and that was to see how Tifa was doing. She can't even do that without calling you up first to gloat."

"Relax, man. She wouldn't dare tell any of the others. Besides, she only told me because she's afraid of Cloud."

I blinked. "That doesn't make sense, Cid."

Cid chuckled on the other end of the line. "Yuffs's afraid of gettin' in the middle of Cloud an' Tifa, so she asked me to check on her instead." He paused. "I can see why _you _didn't do it, 'cause you're the one he's probably mad at, but shit." A long drag, and his next words were spoken amidst the exhale. "Actually, she did call, but Cloud answered the phone. Didn' even get to 'hello'. Just hung up. And _that's_ how I know your ass is safe from Barret. Fuckin' pansy-ass kid. Some ninja..."

Barret? I could take him on if I left one arm at home. I was willing to bet Yuffie had no plans to call me back after that, but it was just as well. I did begin to relax a little, but I wasn't out of the woods yet. "And did you?"

"Did I what?"

I rolled my eyes. "Drown kittens in the river."

"Huh? Oh-!"

"...Dumbshit."

"Jerk." I heard him inhale slowly, but I held my patience. "Yeah, I checked on her. Cloud picked up the phone, jus' like I thought."

"Gods..." I dug even deeper into my scalp.

"Told 'im I'd hung up accident'ly earlier. Asked if she was doin' okay after we'd all gone out. He let me talk to 'er." He sighed. "She didn' sound happy, that's for damn sure."

"You know cell phones have caller-ID."

"Shit-!"

It should have been funny, and I should have called him dumbshit again, but it wasn't, and I didn't. "...She's going to end up back with him."

"Shit, I hope not. What's the deal, he's got her phone now?"

"Who knows?" I sighed again; I'd been doing a lot of that lately, it seemed. "What did she say?"

"...Just that she was okay, and she needed to go."

I frowned. "She's not okay. And he probably thinks she's sleeping with you too, now."

"Uh-uh. _You're_ the one whose house she stayed at."

"Well, he seemed to think as much of me before it actually happened."

"How'd that come about?"

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Long story short? Tifa wasn't sure if she trusted him. I convinced her to get tested. And he found the papers. So naturally, he thought she had done it because she was sleeping with someone else."

"Naturally." I heard him chuckle again. "I would've loved to be in on _that_ conversation."

"I don't think so. Something snapped in him. He became a different person. Kind of frightening, actually."

"Threatened, I bet. Damn near gave 'im an anxiety attack, didja? "

I snorted. "What does he have to feel threatened about? He can do anything he wants, and she grants him full amnesty. Gods, I think..."

"...Yeah?"

I felt ill. "Nothing. Cid, I have to go."

He sighed. "All right. Listen...give me a heads up when shit comes along. I don' like feelin' all helpless and shit."

"Well put," I clipped bitterly.

"We can't all have private educations, you condescending prick."

"I never--" But I stopped. "That's not what I meant," I said, recognizing the slight jibe in his voice. "I was merely empathizing. With feeling helpless?"

"...Yeah. I know."

_Click._

-§-

It was twilight when I heard a muffled tapping on my door. I didn't bother to sit up; I didn't much feel like moving at all. I'd been lying in the same spot for the last couple of hours, unable to calm my restless brain and unwanting to distract it with anything new.

"Come in."

There was nothing, and for a moment I thought that whoever it was hadn't heard me and decided to leave. I hadn't made much noise, because I only half-wanted company and half-dreaded it, as only one person ever came to see me anyway, save for the occasion that Cid was in town. But then I heard the doorknob turn, and slow, hesitant footsteps entered the apartment. The catch slid back into place as the door shut, the short click much too loud in that empty space, almost disruptive to the lower-pitched echo of a familiar pair of mary janes testing my halls.

Tifa.

I'd known who it was before she'd appeared in the doorway to my room, looking every bit as unsure as I thought she would. I turned my head toward her at the cessation of movement, taking in her tired, warm lean against the doorjamb. Those shit-kicker heels, her long, jean-clad legs, hips like a goddess and a body to die for under crossed arms and tight, thin material. She'd obviously left her coat somewhere in the other room, which meant she wasn't just popping in. Her hair had been brushed soft and laid loosely over her shoulders, her graceful neck exposed as she rested her weary head against the wall. Her eyes were dark and puffy, but somehow she'd managed to look amazing and even sent a soft smile in my direction.

"...Tifa."

She breathed in deeply - silently, but I didn't miss the slow rise of her chest - and rolled her head against the doorframe, eyes lowering to the floor when she exhaled. They flicked back up to meet my own mindful scrutiny as she all but whispered, "Hi," and then began staring at my foot, which was firmly planted on the floor right next to the other one.

Seemingly insignificant gestures, but they told all. She was uneasy.

"Can I sit?" she asked, pushing away from her spot and darting glances about the room. Those eyes landed on me every now and then as if she were afraid she would miss my response, but they were, for the most part, rather busy.

So I decided to wait.

Tifa was still for a moment, not approaching, but her mind was going a million miles a minute, I could tell. When I didn't respond, she _had_ to look at me, and her hands - they had fallen to her sides when she'd left the doorway - came together to resume that idle, picking examination. I'd expected her to drop her gaze in their direction, but she couldn't look away for some reason. Maybe it was because I was purposefully locked onto her. Maybe it was because I looked like I needed it. I was, for the most part, prostrate on the bed, save where my knees bent over the edge, and looking at her like she owed me some kind of final word.

Only she didn't. Not really, and I'd known that from the very beginning. I felt my resolution draining out of me as I let her tired eyes go and returned mine to the ceiling. "If you wish."

She walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed, and at the sudden stillness which followed I couldn't help but return to studying her defeated posture, slumping in the dragging silence until she finally rested back on her elbows, her attention directed somewhere unseen between her chest and her knees. Knocking the toes of her shoes together a few times, her face alternated between a frown and thoughtfulness, and then she tilted her head back and smiled to herself, huffing thickly through her nose. "...This is a lot harder than I thought it would be."

Her voice was an erratic wave, and I doubted that her honesty had granted her the peace she'd wanted. It was only just beginning. But I could help her along in some small way; I shifted around on the mattress, turning to her and propping myself up on one elbow. "These things are never easy," I said with certainty as she looked over at me. She smiled and then lowered her eyes again to her hand on the sheets.

"I just..." she began, stopping to run her teeth over her bottom lip, "...I just never thought it would be so hard." Tifa lifted her head to look at me, and I saw the swollen fullness behind her eyes. She scoffed dryly, cracking another more crooked, humored smile. "I don't know where to begin." Her hand picked at the sheets, and she watched helplessly, as if it were separate from her body, from all the thoughts she was trying to sort through. "I mean," she said, casting a look of incredulity at no one in particular, "I must have gone over this a hundred times in my head, but now that I'm here, everything I wanted to say is all mixed up." She took a deep breath. "And I know I have to start this off right, and I can't forget anything, because it's all so important, and there's so much you need to know..."

She was looking at me then, seeming so lost and anxious in the mess we'd made of things. But instead of vaulting into my arms or ignoring it altogether and going straight for the coffee or the tea, she was sitting on the edge of my bed, and her words were sounding more and more like a confession. I swallowed hard, spit sticking to the walls of my throat. At least she hadn't found it so easy as to pretend that it didn't happen at all. "...All right." I licked my lips, eyes held to hers by the beautiful, terrible honesty I saw there.

I tried to get the juices in my mouth going, tried to steady my breath, but to no avail. Was I ready for beautiful, terrible honesty? Was I ready to hear what she had to tell me? Could I accept her words if they were only meant to let me down, gently or not?

Maybe there was no way for me to prepare, and perhaps I would never be able to really get past this moment if it ended badly. But wouldn't a lie be worse? Honesty, I decided, was what I wanted, no matter how painful or wonderful. And I did hold out hope that what she said would be wonderful. But, ready or not, it was what I wanted. "I'm listening."

She turned over on the bed so that her body mirrored mine, and she smiled sadly at me. "Thank you," she whispered. Then her hand came round to join the other in that godsforsaken nervous habit of hers, and I reached forward and covered both hands with one of my own. When she blinked up at me, I shot her a gentle but pointed look, and her mouth took on a more sincere upturn, be it ever so small. Her head dipped shyly, and she craned her neck thoughtfully. "First of all," she began softly, "Cloud and I are finished." A pause. "...For good."

My expression wasn't quite one of shock, but most likely betrayed the many questions which that particular information incited. I couldn't help but wonder which one of them had ended it, or if it was mutual. And how she felt about that was still a mystery to me. I certainly didn't expect her to be jumping with joy, but I did wonder whether she was filled more with longing or relief.

"I ended it," she said, meeting me with a sober look and answering at least one question I never would have dared ask during our current situation. For that, I was grateful. "Cloud...wasn't for me," she continued, her eyes drifting down to her bent knees. "I thought he was. Grow up together, make a promise, meet up, save the world. Written in the stars, right?" Her gaze flicked back to mine. "But I thought about it. The way things are between us, I mean. If he were just some other guy who I hadn't known all my life, if we hadn't saved the world together - or maybe even if we had - I wouldn't put up with this."

I nodded slowly. All she'd had to do to see this was change her perspective of the situation. And I'd known she had the answers all along. All she'd needed was a nudge in the right direction.

Speaking of that...

"Tifa," I asked, frowning, "do you think you would have come to this conclusion if..." I paused. "...What I mean to say is, if you and I had not..."

She wordlessly tilted her head at me, patiently urging me to finish.

I sighed. "If I had not put you in this position, do you think you would have made a decision?"

Tifa looked thoughtful for a moment, then drew her mouth into a thin line. "I don't know. But," and then her face instantly softened, "I'm glad I did."

But that admission only opened other doors, didn't it? I cast my eyes downward, not ready to look at her as I delved into rougher territory. "But was I a _means_ to your decision?" Gods it hurt, but it had to be done.

"I'm not exactly sure what you mean," she said, though the undertone of her voice was a little defensive. Barely noticeable, but still traceable.

"What I need to know," I continued, eyes flicking up at her and then retreating again, "is whether or not you slept with me thinking that it would force you into action, when you'd already made up your mind."

I admit, the question was rather narrow. My insides felt twisted and foreign, and already I was mapping out thoughts and feelings for her, trying to make sense of things when all I had to do was listen. But I was having such a hard time concentrating on all the things I had hidden away - there were so many - that my fears just came tumbling out. In a way, it was just as much my confession as it was hers.

"...You mean...was I looking for an excuse?"

I nodded.

There was a pause, and for a moment I felt the dread cool and harden in my gut. I knew she was sorting out thoughts, knew she had the full intentions of at least giving me words, even if they were late or uncertain. But the silence...

"For breaking up with Cloud?" She sighed through her nose. "No. We've been drifting. I can't lie, it did open my eyes to a lot of things. Maybe it did give me some courage, having been with you..." She stopped to take in a quivering breath, as if the memory alone had shaken her up. "I didn't think I would be like that with anyone else ever again. The thought had crossed my mind before, but I'd never imagined..."

She was blushing, I saw.

"But that's not why," she added. "I didn't do it because of him, Vincent. I didn't even think about him from the time I kissed you until after I had woken up."

"Did you know?" I couldn't help but throw that out there not two seconds after her words. "Did you come over here with the intentions of going to bed with me?"

"Actually, no." Tifa frowned, and her face took on a look that was akin to regret, if I could pick and choose. She took a deep breath. "When I left my house, I thought maybe I'd get drunk, pass out on your couch. I didn't want to be back before morning. It's true, I did want to make him stop and think. And sometimes, when I'm angry with him, it's really very easy to wish I'd ended up with someone like you. But until last night, I couldn't make myself admit that maybe that someone might be you. Because I was with Cloud, and that still would have made me feel guilty.

"But," she continued, "my mind has been screaming 'what if, what if' for so long now. And once I was here, once I saw you, I knew I wanted to kiss you. Nothing more, but I should have known that it wouldn't stick, because I've told myself so many times before that if I kissed you I wouldn't be able to stop there. And yes," she answered to my curious glance, "I had wondered many times before what it might be like to kiss you. So maybe part of me did know that something might happen, or at least that it was possible.

"But Vincent, I can't just toy with this idea anymore. This is my fault, I know. I come over here, I hug you, I touch you, I take up all your time. And I know it's saying something when I can't make myself come over here without a fresh shower, and even more when I'm waxing things and wearing lace, and preparing for a 'just in case' that isn't supposed to ever come up. I'm supposed to be _fighting_ it, but I've been doing a very half-assed job of it," she said, smiling softly in apology.

I might have noticed a thing or two about that. Those that required nudity were the freshest in my memory. Tifa had always been bold; bold enough to ask personal questions, invade my space, or lean on me whenever she felt so inclined. Wherever that something extra picked up and took over, I couldn't be sure, but I had been so wrapped up in keeping myself under control that I'd failed to notice these things as anything other than comfortable familiarity between friends.

But then there was the past week. Intoxicated or not, she had made the first move at the bar that night. For all her nail-picking and lip-biting, she was still aggressive. Tifa was the sort of person who let her actions speak for her; this was probably one of the first things that drew me to her, as I've always preferred that sort of company. And Tifa's actions were clear; gods, and I'd thought _Cloud_ was oblivious. If she'd broken down this soon, then either she'd been feeling this for a long time, or she'd been desperate to grab my attention.

Either way, she'd been fighting her reservations, it seemed, not her desire. And if I were her desire, if I were what she consciously wanted, then could it mean-?

"And when I'm around you, I want to take everything a little bit further, but I knew that if I kissed you, then things would change. It was selfish of me, because I can't just jump from one relationship to another, especially when I care about you so much. I've been trying to ignore these thoughts in my head, thinking that if I block them out then I won't have to think about what they really mean, and I'll never have to deal with them. But after last night, I had to stop and take a good look at all of them, and really try to see this for what it is.

"I know you love me, Vincent. I think everyone else knows it, too. And there are so many things about you that make me love you in so many different ways. There are different things I love about all my friends, but I think there are a bit more where you're concerned. Those silly little things that make you who you are and make me glad to be around you. But then there are a few more that only apply to you. Things that only I know because we've spent so much time together. The way you've cared for me, and other things that have endeared you to me. You're my best friend, Vincent."

I swallowed hard. Unsure of what to say to all this, I just nodded low and began fiddling with _her_ fingers. Half out of nervousness, and half because I wanted her to know that I was still there with her, even if she didn't want me in that way. "Wow," I whispered, smiling wanly. "That was a mouthful."

She squeezed my fingers. "I've been over it a few times today. But...there's so much more to it than that."

_...Oh? Then please continue._

"All these things are reasons why I care about you, and why I want you. But there's something else there, I think. Something else I've been trying to put my finger on. There have been times when I'm lying awake at night, and I'm not thinking at all about where Cloud might be or what he's doing, even when I thought he could be with someone else. I'm thinking about what _you're_ doing, wondering if you're awake or asleep, wondering if you're thinking about me. But that's infatuation, too, isn't it? Is being in love just a mixture of infatuation and caring deeply enough? I just don't know.

"I need time," she sighed, "to figure this out. I have to know that it isn't just me trying to fill the gap that Cloud left, even if I'm not doing it on purpose. I have all these feelings for you, but I have to make sure they're real. And after what I did last night...well, friends don't put each other in that position. It was selfish of me, giving you something and then having to take it back like this. But gods, if it's going to be at all, it has to be about _us_, and not about me or my want or my neediness."

My hand went limp in hers. There it was, written in her eyes, in that tiny spark of resolve. She needed time, but there was a chance. Don't get your hopes up, I told myself. But still...

Clumsy as they were, things between us seemed so natural. It couldn't simply be lust for a friend, could it? The way she'd been acting, even the way she spoke about it, it seemed that she was more herself around me, and more obligated to Cloud. It wasn't exactly this timid thing from afar, but it could have been. She could have chosen to stay away, make some other friends. True, I was the closest and the most familiar, but if she'd known that being near me would get her into trouble, then why did she keep coming around? And when I stopped to look back on it, she had been flirting with me, hadn't she? And not just a little.

"...Vincent?"

What I did know was that we both loved each other, even if she didn't love me in all the same ways that I loved her. That was still so much more than I ever would have dared to ask for.

Love is a choice and an action, not a feeling, no matter what people say. Tifa knew that better than anyone, I think. We can't choose who we fall _in_ love with, but we can choose who we give our hearts to. It's better that way, I believe; if we couldn't choose who we gave our hearts to, then love would be far more painful. I couldn't help my feelings for Tifa, but I'd chosen her anyway, despite the circumstances.

Sometimes people feel like they're in love when they really aren't willing to put anything on the line for it. I'd been on the receiving end of that one before. Sometimes people who do love each other fall out of that feeling of being in love, but it doesn't mean that it was any less real than it is for those who still have it. Maybe she was learning that one. But sometimes enough is enough, and that could just as easily have been it.

"Vincent, please say something."

We would always love each other, I was sure, at least in all the ways we loved each other in that moment. Even if we tried to be together, and it didn't work out, we would still be friends. I know she didn't want to put a blemish on our easy familiarity, but we had already gone and changed things, and there wasn't any getting around that. As for me, I didn't really look at it that way. Not a blemish really, just an experience, and an open door. But I understood her reservations, that she needed to get comfortable again, sort out her thoughts, and figure out what she really wanted with me.

"Tifa, if you need time, then take it." The words came from somewhere deep and warm in my chest; I knew she'd given me more than I'd first expected, more than I'd ever hoped for or thought I deserved, and for that I was willing to give back, willing to have a little faith. "I'll be here."

I had to be careful though, that having a little faith didn't turn into expectancy, didn't shake my entire world down if it turned out she didn't love me in that way. It still took every ounce of control I had to not listen to the part of my brain that was chanting that she'd genuinely wanted me the night before, because I'd felt it. And I'd been certain that I'd felt more than that. I could reach out to touch her, kiss her, try to convince her that she was fooling herself if she thought it wasn't real.

But maybe _I_ was fooling myself. She wanted me, loved me. I loved and wanted her. But she wasn't sure if she loved me in all the ways that people who want each other should. And I could understand. When faced with a difficult situation in life, with grieving or hardship, it is easy to turn those feelings into something else, and infatuation can feel like love when one is desperate for comfort. I understood so much it was painful. She didn't want to trick herself, didn't want to trick me. It wasn't only about what, but _why_. Best to wait until the entire thing with Cloud blew over.

Tifa lowered her head and looked at our hands. "I've already wronged you. It's a lot for me to ask, you waiting for me to figure things out, even if it turns out that I'm wrong about this. I just need time, but I don't want to miss you, either." She paused, and then her head shot up, eyes wide. "I wasn't thinking about dating anyone else or anything like that--"

I smiled, and my thumb brushed her knuckles. "I know."

She sighed. "I don't know if I can ask you for this. I don't want to waste your time, but I can't help but feel a little...possessive."

My eyebrows shot up.

"Vincent, if another woman comes along..."

She looked...worried, maybe even a little bit terrified. I chuckled; I couldn't help it. "Tifa, I'm not looking for anything else--"

"But if it falls into your lap..."

Now_ she_ was frightened of losing _me_? "I don't want anyone else. I can wait."

I'm fairly certain I saw her face turn pale just then, but she was quick to hide it from me. "Oh gods, now I feel terrible," she moaned quietly aside. "...How long?"

"As long as you need."

"Not that," she said meekly. "I meant...how long have you felt this way? Sure you wanted it to be me, I mean. You're really sure?"

I swallowed hard. "Awhile," I softly replied. "And yes, I'm sure."

"Wow," she gasped, nearly breathless. "...Like a long while?"

I took a deep breath. "Mmm."

"That's not why we're friends, is it?"

"No," I quickly reassured her. "To be honest...I can't remember when the lines began to blur."

"Before you came to Edge?"

"I don't know." _Please don't be angry. _"I wanted you to have another friend in the city. I liked talking to you, and I've always enjoyed your company." I shook my head. "It might have been there already. It...might have had something to do with it. Or maybe it wasn't love back then; it could have been just as much for me." I sighed. "Who knows, maybe _I_ was lonely."

She looked up at me again, wary and shaken. I could see where this was going. "I can't believe I took advantage like that. If I'd known, I might have stopped. I might have...Vincent--"

"Don't," I said. "Don't worry about me." She had just bared herself to me, not knowing how I would react, and she wasn't even angry with me. Why would I deny her this one simple request, when she'd been so understanding? "Besides, I already told you I wasn't putting up a fight. You shouldn't be so accepting of all the blame."

"Vincent," she said, shifting around and raising her head, "I knew that if I kissed you, you would kiss back."

I raised my eyebrows and couldn't help the tiny lift of my mouth.

"I could see it in your eyes," she explained, smiling sadly. "You try so hard to hide some things, but they're always giving you away."

"Well, I hardly think a kiss is worth guilting yourself over. I could have said no."

"But you didn't," she protested. "And I didn't. By the time I realized you weren't going to, we were already so far gone that I knew it would have to be me. I thought about it, but I didn't stop it. I couldn't, I didn't want to. And gods, didn't I egg you on for a minute there, when all of it began? How were you supposed to say no when I was practically petitioning you?" She shook her head. "Vincent, I'm so--"

"Like I said--" _Stop, stop, stop. Don't you realize what you're doing to me?_

"It just happened so fast. One minute I was teasing you, and then I just had to kiss you, and after that, I couldn't help touching..." She trailed away, suddenly aware of what she was saying, and she lowered her head again, face bright red.

Meanwhile, I'd been biting back a groan and was currently pushing it as far down inside as I could get it to go, hoping it wouldn't pop back up. She really had no idea. Her words, slowing as they faded, were more sensual than intended, and brought with them a barrage of images reminding me of how it had all started, reminding me of where it had led us. Instead I pasted a tentative look onto my face, pretending like I hadn't been bothered by it. I probably looked ridiculous, but at least she was focused on our hands instead.

"I didn't give you any indication that I minded," I said. "Either way, I'm not holding anything against you."

"You mean provided this works out," she sighed, frowning.

I blinked. My waiting wasn't exactly bending over backwards for her. I really had no desire to be with anyone else. In fact, Tifa was the first desirable incident I'd had ever since I'd awoken from my deep sleep. Granted, this was part of why I didn't want to see her go and a testament to how special she was to me, but I'd still be waiting around, even if her answer was no. "Tifa, I don't want this to affect your judgement. Please try to put it out of your head."

"But what if it goes away? You know, I'm not hurting because of Cloud. What if it just hasn't hit me yet? Or what if I wake up weeks from now, and I don't feel anything for anyone? What is that going to do to us?"

Sighing, I sat upright on the bed. "Come here," I said, urging her to my side. She followed without question, and I wrapped my arms around her, murmuring into her hair as she rested beneath my chin. "You're not going to wake up numb. If you do, then I'll pull you out of it. Besides, if it hadn't happened then, it probably would have sooner or later."

"Even if I hadn't kissed you in the bar?"

I smiled against her sweet-smelling head. "Eventually. You don't know what it is, but that's all right. At least you're honest about it, and if things change, at least I'll know you cared about that. And I'll promise to be here no matter what we're calling it, as long as that's okay with you. But the last thing you need is to be with someone else because you feel obligated. I do love you, but I don't want you to let that affect your choice. Forget me," I said, as painful and uncertain as it was, "and take the time you need. If it goes away, then it goes away. We'll go back to the way things were before, but we also don't have to pretend that nothing ever happened, no matter what it did or didn't mean."

"...Vincent, I don't want it to go away." She curled in closer, and I turned my face against the crown of her head.

_Good. _"What do you want to do?"

"I want to keep seeing you like I have been. I need to try and be around you without thinking like this, see if I can go back to that mindset I had before we..." she fumbled, "...and I need to know if I'll still want to take up as much of your time then, now that I've been with you. I think for that to happen, everything needs to be like it was. I need to be with you, but not _with_ you for a while. I need to still be able to talk and eat and laugh with you," she said, "although I probably shouldn't drink with you for a while."

"Duly noted," I replied, and was rewarded with a small smile as she turned to look up at me.

"I want to get out, forget about Cloud. Unfortunately, I'll be spending some time out with _him_, helping him look for an apartment, but that's unavoidable."

I leaned back to get a better look at her. "Apartment hunting?"

"Yeah, it's sort of my way of trying to make up for kicking him out. I pulled up some listings earlier. It's tough, because we have to find one with a private garage, and he has to okay his business permits, and it's this big ordeal. But the sooner we find one, the sooner we can end the awkwardness."

"Ah. And the children?"

"Are staying with me. We both agreed on that."

"Hmm," I hummed in approval.

"...Vincent?"

"Mm?"

"What would you do if I was pregnant?" Her question was soft and timid, and...

What _could_ I do? "Whatever you asked me to, I suppose. Though I don't think you need to worry about that just yet. The odds that those pills won't work are very slim."

"...I threw them away."

I blinked in surprise; shock wasn't the word. Suddenly my heart was silent, lodged somewhere in my throat. "...Compulsive motherhood?" I croaked.

She shrugged nervously. "Maybe. We'll see, I guess."

"I thought you needed time." _We _needed time. Time to get ready. But nine months would afford us plenty of that, wouldn't it?

"...Are you mad?"

Frightened to hell was more like it. I didn't think I was ready. Was I mad? No, not really. "...No."

"I thought about it a lot," she said, leaning back against me. "There might be a lot of things I'm unsure of, but you're the one person I trust the most in this kind of situation."

Trust. Now that was a word I had never thought would be associated so easily with one such as myself. Accountability was a different story, but sometimes they could be the same thing. But I had never thought myself to be very experienced at the first, or perhaps not until just recently. "...Why?"

"Well," she replied, "I guess because when you said you'd be there for me no matter what happened, I believed you."

Of course she did. And I'd meant it. If she couldn't trust the man who said he loved her, then who _could_ she trust? No matter that I hadn't said as much until afterward. She'd said herself that she'd already known.

"And...oh, I don't know. Having this gift, this...wonderful friend, who would do anything for me, and doesn't even try anymore to hide how much he cares...and then after you told me you'd stick by my decision, even if it meant an entirely new world of responsibility...maybe I just figured I should give you at least that much. I mean, gods, you didn't even have to say anything, but you did. You're the one who took me up there so I had a choice, and you were more than ready to admit the entire thing to Cloud, even though you didn't know what was going to happen. I'm _safe _with you, Vincent."

"You're always safe with me."

"I know," she said. "And I think you'd make a terrific father. I didn't want to take that chance away from you, even if it wouldn't be the only one."

Accountability. For a life. How did I become such a man?

I remember being young and reckless, and the man - no, he'd been a youth, then - who taught me better. Not my father, for he was a free man his entire life. No, one of my own peers, and I had never expected to find that in my profession. Headstrong, but reliable, and somehow whenever I was paired with him, I wasn't quite as afraid of death.

But he went soft eventually, even if only for a while. Blue eyes and red hair. _Veld, you're a fool_, I said. _Aren't you the one who taught me that the job always comes first? _On again, off again, until his job with ShinRa drove his Sarah crazy and she left him, taking their daughter with her, or at least that's what I've heard. But I was no wiser, having ended up dead.

"You will be here, right?" she asked.

I knew what it was like, to rush into something and find I had nothing to back it up. I'd never even given it a second thought to be honest, so one can imagine how lost I felt when I found myself alone. It should have come as no surprise that it wasn't harder for Lucrecia to cast our relationship aside. A fire at first, burning up and dying quickly until it was nothing more than ash. In hindsight, it didn't even come close to what I felt for Tifa, but it was the best way I knew back then, and even up until I fell in with AVALANCHE. And it wasn't love. But _I thought it was_. And I understood that Tifa didn't want to make that mistake and be left with only a jump-start to nowhere.

But Tifa was different from Lucrecia in a lot of ways. That jump-start was all Lucrecia and I had. With Tifa there was so much more; we had other things to build on, reasons to trust each other, reasons to try other than just wanting to make things work with someone, _anyone_, just to feel normal. Reasons to talk things out instead of running away, reasons to care about _where we were headed together_. Real reasons, that counted for something.

...Maybe even one more reason.

I tightened my hold on her. "Of course."

Because, after thirty-five years, I'd figured out that the key to life was being responsible to the _right_ people, the _right_ causes. As people, we choose our loyalties. It took me long enough, but perhaps it was the quality of years spent, not the quantity. In the last few years, I learned exactly what Tifa meant to me. She had shown me how much better it was to feel completely, joy and pain alike, than to be numb. Even if she didn't return my feelings, I didn't want them to fade. I'd been running on automatic for so long, hanging onto old knowledge and memories that had long since lost their meaning. But I was finally awake - finally alive - and I had her to thank for it.

"...Even if it doesn't work out between us?"

"Yes." Because Tifa was the _right_ woman. Even if things didn't work out, she was the right woman. I didn't care if that phrasing didn't make sense. I knew what I meant, and I knew it was true.

I can hear a younger Veld's gruff voice in my ear. _I told you so_, he would say. _If you'd figured this out sooner, you might not have ended up shot. Then maybe you could have told me._

But I also wouldn't be here now, with her, even at sixty-two. Turks didn't last into their thirties; Veld was the exception to the rule.

Besides, he never would have listened to me anyway.

...Tifa, so full of life when she was free enough. Could she really be carrying my child? That could be...

I tried to picture myself changing jobs in order to support a family. Driving down the road, shifting around to pull at the forgotten toy digging into my lower back. Green bean pureé on my shirtsleeves.

Oh, we could be so amazing together.

But just because it would be amazing didn't mean it would be best for her. And just because I was willing to compensate for any possible messy ending didn't mean it would hurt any less for either of us. We might have had both attraction and resolve right then and there, but we might not always, and if we tried and it turned out that we weren't meant to be, I wouldn't want to keep her against her will. Problem was, she wouldn't want to be the one who left me. Neither of us would want to live that way out of obligation.

On the other hand, just because she was confused at the moment also didn't make it any less real, whatever it turned out to be. And once it was started, once we had built on all the other things - friendship, trust, understanding, those we had - that are meant to hold two people together when feelings waver, it would be more than obligation. By then it would be everything, because it would be all we knew anymore. To separate would be like cutting off a limb.

I feared I had already reached that point.

"Vincent?" she asked, pulling me from my thoughts, "do you mind if I nap here for a while?"

"...Come again?"

"I could make up the couch. I just want to stay out for a bit longer, but I do want to be home before the kids are ready for bed."

"Cloud is with them?"

"Yeah. Actually, he seemed really interested in spending some time with them. Maybe because he's leaving, he feels like he won't get to see them as much. I wish he would have done that sooner, though."

I saw the slight upset in her face. "I'm sure he does, too."

She seemed to be thinking. "Well..."

I broke away from her then and moved up the mattress to the pillows above. "Here," I said, setting a couple of them up on her side of the bed. Strange, how easy it was to think of it that way. Her side. "You can sleep here if you want."

"Yeah?" she asked, already kicking off her shoes. I was going to pull the blankets down, but she crawled her way to the pillows and set her head down on them. "It doesn't--" she began, yawning, "--doesn't make you uncomfortable?"

It did, actually. I hadn't thought it would, but after seeing her crawl towards my pillows, it did. "If it makes you uncomfortable, let me know and I'll take the couch. Though you really don't look like you have any complaints," I added, smiling a little.

I half-hoped she would say yes, and half-hoped that she would say no, and I would find some extraordinary will-power to not kiss her that would last me into the coming months. Perhaps things like this were best not exercised like flesh-and-blood muscle, but I was inclined to think otherwise, in light of the situation.

"No," she said. "I want to think that we can still do something like this without it being strange."

I shrunk down into the bed and turned to look at her. "Still? Tifa, we've never slept side-by-side before." Except for the obvious, I did not add. "This is fairly new."

She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. "Well, I just like the idea of being this comfortable with you, then. I have been for this long, and I don't want that to change now. Besides, it's not like I'm going to sort any of this out by hiding from it." She had me there. But how long would her will last against such boldness? Or mine, for that matter?

I watched a smile grow on her face as she settled in, but her eyes didn't open again. Watching her sleep next to me, I thought about getting up and leaving her be, but my eyes were suddenly heavy, and I wanted to stay. So I drifted off next to her, letting all troublesome thoughts escape me. Having already been over it with her, it was surprisingly easy.

When I awoke later, I was alone in my bed. It was late, and Tifa had seen herself out and gone home to the children like she'd said. The other half of the sheets had been turned down and draped over my body; Tifa, compulsively mothering. Until then, I'd almost forgotten to worry about the issue of impending fatherhood.

I wasn't quite sure if that was a good or a bad sign, but somehow I thought she might be ready enough for the both of us. I'd never wanted a child before, _really_ wanted one. When I'd thought even for a moment that Sephiroth might be mine, even then my hopes were motivated by jealousy. I hadn't been right in the head back then. In fact, I think I was better off as a person _after_ the demons had been put in, or brought out, depending on how one looks at it.

But now?

Tifa's having my child was the most appealing thing in the world to me. Fatherhood was something I truly wanted, and I could say I'd actually given it sincere thought this time. I wanted to be a family, even if things became awkward and inconvenient. And I truly believed something like that was worth every effort.

* * *

_**AN Jan. 30, 2007: **Rawr, this chapter was a bitch to write. And long. I thought about splitting it up, but...no. You guys have waited long enough, so you get this. I'm really sorry for the delay. Lots of stuff going on 'round this time of year, especially now having a kid. Time now for my drug of choice (...it's high-sugar, caffeinated earl grey, ye of little faith). Kudos to Kelenthial - you guessed it with the pills. Tifa's, I mean, not mine. TEA, I've told you. New chapter coming as soon as I can pump it out. Lots of other things to catch up on too, and new stuff coming out. Feedback is much appreciated! Like you wouldn't imagine. And thank you, Kim, for beta-ing.  
_

_Now I'm going to go work on my TifaXHellmasker doujinshi, BECAUSE HAVE YOU EVER SEEN VINTIF DOUJINSHI?_


	13. Getting Reacquainted

**13**

**Getting Re-acquainted**

"Vincent?"

I was relieved to hear her voice on the line; it had been five whole days since I'd last spoken to her. She needed time, and I didn't want to force myself on her, but I'd really missed her. I'd set a line at one week; if it had gone on any longer than that, I would have to give in. "Tifa."

"Hey." A pause. "How are you doing?"

I fiddled absently with a tin of shoe polish that was sitting on the dresser. "Fine. I haven't heard from you in a while."

"I've been kind of busy. What have you been up to?"

"Nothing much," I said, glancing over at the bright screen of my laptop computer. "Just some writing."

"Oh."

I waited for a moment, but she was quiet on the other end. "...Tifa?"

"Hm?" She sounded distracted, maybe uneasy.

"Are you all right?"

"...Yes."

"You're sure?"

She laughed. "I'm fine, Vincent, really. Just a little busy around here."

"...I missed you."

"You did?"

Had I said that out loud? I cleared my throat. "Is that okay?"

"Hmm," she chuckled. "Yes, that's okay. Vincent, would you like to get together tonight?"

If I smiled just a little bit then, it couldn't be helped. There was never a time when I would turn down her company. "I have time if you do."

"Well, it's Sunday, so I have the night off," she said, sighing, "but I just took a three-day weekend last time, and between trying to keep up with the bar and talking to realtors, I've gotten pretty behind. I was wondering if you'd want to come by here?"

I glanced at the bedside display; it read eight o'clock already. "It won't stir up trouble if I show up, will it?"

"No. Cloud's on a delivery run, and he shouldn't even be back until sometime tomorrow afternoon. Besides," her voice picked up, "it's my house, and I can invite whoever I want to come over."

The smile grew. "Should I bring anything?"

"I made dinner."

Oh? "What did you make?"

"Ah...a roast."

I raised my eyebrows. "The kids are at home?"

"Actually, they're at a friend's house tonight, but they'll be home later on in the evening, probably past their bedtime. I'm sure they'll have pizza or something while they're gone."

I stopped my mindless pacing through the apartment and marvelled to myself at the thought. No woman slow-cooks an entire roast throughout the day all for herself. Either she had known she was going to call, or the children's absence came as a surprise to her.

"Vincent, I'm sorry I didn't get in touch with you sooner," she said. "I just...don't think it's fair for me to eat up all of your time, especially if I can't make any promises..." There was a growing waver in her voice. "...So I've been trying to focus on work, and other things..."

"Tifa, it's all right."

She was silent for a moment. "...Yeah." Then a short laugh; she was nervous. "Let's not talk about it, then. How's your writing, anyway?"

I blinked at the quick change in tone and subject, but I thought it would be better to ignore it than to prod. "It's fine."

"That's good. Well... when did you want to come over?"

"I can head on over as soon as I change my shirt and grab some shoes."

"Oh! Better give me a fifteen-minute head-start," she said, sounding rather stumped. I supposed that had been somewhat over-eager of me.

"Okay," I said. "I'll wait a short while."

"Not too long, though? There's a movie I want to watch on Tv tonight, and I was kind of hoping you'd stay for it."

I smiled. "I can do that."

"Thanks. I know it's short notice and all, but I was... well, I was kind of nervous about calling in the first place, and-"

"It's all right. Don't even mention it." How long had she been deliberating? "I'll be there in about half an hour. Does that sound okay?"

"Perfect."

-§-

I got a phone call in the middle of dinner. The number on the display looked familiar, but I couldn't place it. Tifa tilted her head questioningly, and I motioned with my hand that I would only be a minute.

"Hello?"

"Vincent Valentine."

It was Shelke. I swallowed what was left in my mouth and cleared my throat. "Hi."

"Are you busy?"

"Well... I'm kind of having dinner with Tifa." Who was left with nothing to do but to watch me have my conversation. "Did you need something?"

"Oh. No, just checking in. How's that going, by the way?"

I blinked. It couldn't be. "...What do you know?" It was dangerous ground, having this talk in front of Tifa, who was currently staring intently at my face and mouthing the words, 'Who is it?'

"Not much. Can I talk to her?"

"Actually, I don't think this is the best time-"

"I haven't seen her in a while. I would like to speak with her."

I thought this over. Shelke was aware - she had picked up on them quite easily - of my feelings for Tifa, but surely she didn't know anything about what had already passed between us. And I wasn't about to have a long, drawn-out argument right then and there. "...Okay. Hang on a second." I put my hand over the receiver and, still wary of how the girl's fleeting presence might affect Tifa, simply because of her ties to my ex, I cautiously peered over at the woman I had grown to love. "It's Shelke. She wants to talk to you."

She looked surprised, but still she held her hand out for the phone. "Oh... okay." She put the object to her ear. "Shelke?"

I could only wait. I didn't touch a bite of my food during her conversation.

"Oh, that's good. Mm-hm." Her laughter sounded nervous, uncertain. "That's ah... I guess. Thank you? Oh...wow. Yes, that's wonderful. Well, I'd better give the phone back to Vincent. It was nice talking with you again, too."

Regardless of her words, she looked uneasy when she handed me my cell. I frowned, knowing I couldn't just put everything on hold and demand it of Shelke to know what she had talked to Tifa about. "Are you okay?" I whispered.

Tifa pursed her lips together. "Later," she said, motioning to the phone cradled in my hand.

I kept my skeptical eyes on her as I brought the piece back to my ear. "What was she thanking you for?"

"I just told her congratulations."

Oh, no.

"You know, I met someone myself."

"...You did?" Tifa appeared deep in thought, and I was hoping to wrap the call up soon. "Is he-"

"He's sixteen."

"Ah." Well. I didn't want to know about the ethical complications, but I assumed he knew what he was getting into. There weren't many options left open to her, and there wouldn't be for a few more years.

"He's very mature for his age."

I cleared my throat again. Twenty-one, sixteen... "Are you looking for my approval?" Sixty-two, twenty-five...

"Not really. I just... do you think that... I mean, if it gets to that point, or if it even lasted for long..."

"How is your regimen going?"

"I've been keeping up with it." She sounded... happy.

"You told him?"

"Yes."

"Physical therapy?" She could maybe pass for fourteen, so far. Barely. Gods help them.

"That too."

"Then I suppose anything is possible." I wasn't about to be a hypocrite. Still... there was something about it that didn't seem right to me. And sixteen-year-old boys were anything but patient. "Just be careful," I added. "...You know what I mean."

"Okay. I do, and I will. Thank you. I'll let you finish your dinner now. And... congratulations, again."

It couldn't have been Cid; it wouldn't have been. I was going to kill Yuffie. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye, Vincent."

When I'd hung up, Tifa's attention had returned, and the crease between her eyebrows was putting me in a strange position. I started carefully. "...You look upset."

She opened her mouth, then paused and shut it again, and I could see a myriad of word choices flying back and forth behind her eyes. It was a long couple of seconds before she spoke. "Did you tell people that we slept together?"

And there it was, what I had been fearing all along. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to remember the conversation I had with Cid earlier in the week. Technically, I had admitted it, though I didn't spell it out for anyone. But I didn't want her getting the wrong idea. She had to know me better than that.

She was waiting for an answer. Ever-patiently. Still willing to give a man another chance despite his baggage and stupid choices, she didn't yell or accuse. Gods, but she was too wonderful for words.

"It's complicated." I took a minute to gather something more intelligent while she watched me with that curious stare. "I had asked Yuffie to check on you a few days ago. Before you came over to talk."

"You did?"

"I was worried. I know it seems elementary, but I thought that if I had called, then it would make more trouble for you."

She nodded slowly, expectantly.

"She ended up calling Cid, apparently."

"Yeah, I talked to him. I kind of wondered how he knew to check on me, but I didn't really have time to ask him."

"Yes. Well... I think he sort of assumed. I don't know what Yuffie said to him, but he called me, asking about it. I didn't really know what to say. I didn't even know that he'd talked to you yet."

She sighed, but there was a small smile gracing the corner of her mouth. This baffled me. She then got a far-away look in her eyes. "Gods... they probably think..."

I frowned. "What is it?"

"Oh, just something Yuffie might have remembered from a long time ago. Something I said... when I first met you."

My eyebrows shot up. "What's that?"

She shook her head, chuckling to herself. "I'm sure they think I've been dying to pounce on you." Then she frowned more seriously. "I hope none of them think I'm taking advantage."

"Why would they think that?"

There was a pink stain creeping up from the neck of her blouse to her face. "I, um... I might have said something about your appearance. This was years ago, though."

She had my full attention. "Specifically?"

"Specifically?" She ducked her head and took a breath, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. "I told Yuffie you had a nice backside."

I blinked. "You did."

She hid the cheek that was facing me in her palm. "I can't believe I told you that, after all this time."

I bit back a smile. "You've been sitting on this for how long?"

"Five years," she laughed. "Kind of feels good to let go of it, actually, even though I hadn't thought about it in a long time."

"Right." The smile broke through. "And you're afraid she'll think-?"

"That I've been waiting for an opportunity? That I'm shallow? That I don't think twice and keep my more attractive friends close by, just in case?" She was starting to get a little worked up, and it bothered me.

"Tifa..." I sighed. "I'm truly sorry."

She just shook her head and put her elbows on the table, smoothing the hair back from her face and cradling her chin in her hands. "It's too late to do anything about it now. Besides," and it was amazing how easily that smile of hers began to creep back into place, "I don't think I could sit on this one forever. I mean... I wouldn't want it to feel like a dirty secret, you know?" She shrugged. "It's you, and it's me. So they know; I guess that's okay, really. It would have to come out sometime. Cloud knew anyway, so really, I'd feel strange walking around with this being all hush-hush between us. We're too close for that; I like being open with you and free from those kinds of burdens. I don't need to have to worry about how we're allowed to act and who's watching, or what they'll think."

I narrowed my eyes as an appreciative smile began to break through. I almost wished that wasn't so painfully touching. "I... agree. But you know I'm not the sort to run my mouth in the way most would expect in this situation."

Her head shot up, and she began to laugh full-out. "No kidding! But look how far you've come. I remember when I couldn't get you to string more than a few words together at a time."

"Well, it's different, now that we have something to say."

Tifa's laughter quieted slowly. "I guess it is, isn't it?"

I nodded, and an awkward silence settled over the room.

"...Did I make you uncomfortable?" she asked, tilting her head in that concerned way she had about her.

I shook my head. "No."

"Right." Her eyes searched the room for a distraction before they returned to the table. "Are you still eating?"

"I don't think I could eat another bite. It was very good, though."

"Thank you," she smiled. "How about I clear these dishes away, and we go watch that movie?"

That sounded like a good idea. "I'll help you," I offered, grateful for the respite as I grabbed my plate and moved into the kitchen.

-§-

Seventh Heaven had an interesting layout, one that wasn't common to most residential buildings. It was the sort of thing one might find in an upscale department store in Junon, strange things that had half-floors and basement shopping levels. Though the basements in Junon weren't really basements, as they were only half-beneath the earth, wedged somewhere into the cliffside and reinforced with manmade materials to protect against flooding. We didn't have basements in Edge, because the city was already at sea-level and close enough to the continental shelf.

From the outside of the bar, it looked like one thick block of solid architecture, but the inside was much more impressive. Travelling up the wooden staircase from the kitchen and dining-area, there was a sound-proof door, for the children's sake, I assumed. Past the door, a few more steps and the children's room was on the left. The stairs continued on ahead, but also branched off to the right, where the office was. There was a walk-in closet there, mostly where Cloud stored packages on hold and other supplies, and that branched off somewhere unseen behind the walls. Like winding, disjointed tiers.

There was another separate room before the top-most level, where Tifa's bedroom was, along with the spare one. This room had only a television set and a couple of couches. It seemed the space was made for relaxing; there were no windows and no outside noise. I was rather fond of that room. It reminded me of an emergency shelter of some sort.

Tifa grabbed the remote and we settled in. It wasn't long before we'd managed to manoeuvre into a comfortable sort of lazing against each other. True to her earlier words, she wasn't letting the awkwardness of our situation come between us. My arm was thrown over the back of the couch, legs stretched out and feet crossed on the floor below, and she was resting against my side.

Laughter erupted from her throat. "I can't believe it. For a minute, you think he's being all romantic and he's saying all the right things, such beautiful words. And then he goes and messes it up by saying something completely crass and off-the-wall." She shifted around to gauge my reaction, and I smiled back at her. "And there's that stupid catch... phrase... word-thing. What a dork."

I chuckled at her less than eloquent approach. "That is most men. Foot-in-mouth syndrome." Still so hard to ignore the scent of her hair as she moved against my chest.

"You've never gone and pulled something like that."

I frowned. "Perhaps not quite that bad."

"Well, I don't buy it. Do guys really think that kind of thing is smooth? Also, no one can guess a stewardess's name just from approximating her origin and knowing her perfume. What's with that, anyway?"

It was then that we heard the shuffling of feet on the steps outside the room. Tifa pushed herself up and craned her neck just in time to see Denzel appear in the doorway, Marlene slumped tiredly against him, resting her head on his shoulder. "You two look exhausted," she said.

"Uh-huh," he mumbled, bleary-eyed. "I thought I heard talking."

"Vincent and I are watching a movie. Did you have fun?"

He nodded. "Marlene fell asleep. I had to wake her up before we could leave."

"I bet that wasn't easy." I could hear the amusement in her voice.

"No. Devlin's mom dropped us off. She fell asleep again in the car." He made a weak gesture with his arm. "Hi, Vincent."

I nodded back to him. "Hello."

"Did you lock up?" Tifa asked him.

"Yup." He made to turn around and guide Marlene back down to her room.

"There's food in the fridge, if you're still hungry. You can bring it in here, if you want."

He paused, seeming to consider it for a moment. "Nah. I think I'm just going to go to bed. Goodnight," he said.

"Goodnight," Tifa called, as she watched them disappear down the stairs. She relaxed back into her spot next to me, and in a few minutes Denzel had finished with getting Marlene safely into bed and passed us by, headed upstairs to sleep. We were all alone again.

I can't say for certain when I kicked off my shoes and laid myself out next to her. My eyes were starting to droop as well, and strangely early for me. It must have been from staring at the computer screen for so long and then filling myself with the hearty meal that Tifa had prepared.

I still don't remember the end of that movie.

* * *

_**Notes, Feb. 28, 2007: **A shorter chapter than last. From here on out, the angst will lessen, and we'll be moving forward. This story is turning out to be longer than I'd originally planned, but I'm not complaining. And I haven't forgotten about Cloud; again, I've kept him aside for a bit because it's Vincent's point of view, and also, he's sort of keeping his distance from Tifa, too. But next chapter, he'll get to have some words, and hopefully it will clear a few things up on his end._

_I think interest in this story might be waning, but feel free to correct me! There's a button...right...over there...yep, that's it. Push it. You know you want to be heard._

_Can anybody guess the movie? Anybody? It's a good one... though it might be too old for most of you. ("Hoo-hah!")_


	14. Might as Well Have

**14**

**Might as Well Have**

I've never slept in full shifts, not in over thirty years. I haven't even kept a regular schedule since early high school, barring Avalanche, and I've always chosen activities which were erratic like that. A few hours here and there, sometimes late at night and sometimes in the middle of the day, whenever I'm tired. So I was thoroughly surprised to find myself waking up on that same couch from the previous evening.

I'd fallen asleep. And I'd stayed that way throughout the entire night.

Tifa was bustling around in the bar below. I could hear the sounds; the door to the stairwell was left open. I sat up on the sofa, reaching for my shoes and putting them on. Just then, I heard a commotion on the stairs outside the den, and a fully-dressed Denzel ran by, his pack slung over his shoulders.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit!"

Well, that was interesting. I stood up and followed him down the stairs, where I found Marlene sitting on a stool in the dining hall, watching Tifa throw some lunches together behind the counter. Denzel hurried into the middle of the room, craning his neck, his eyes darting about every tabletop.

"Where is it?" he growled. "Shit..."

"Denzel!" Tifa lifted her head from her food preparations, her jaw set firm once she had his attention. "Watch your mouth."

Marlene hopped off her stool and walked around to the other side of the bar, opening the refrigerator and rummaging around. Denzel dropped his pack into a booth and ran back up the stairs, while Tifa glanced back over her shoulder at the sound of clinking glass and toppled packages.

"Oh, for crying-- Marlene, I've told you not to come back here. The floor is still slippery."

"But I want some juice," she petitioned.

"Go back and sit down, and I'll get you some when I finish putting these sandwiches together, okay?" Tifa replied, turning her back to the girl and hurrying along in her task. It wasn't a question.

"I'll get it for her," I said, and she turned to see me for what might have been the first time that morning, as I'd awoken comfortably sprawled. She bid me a quiet good morning accompanied by a soft smile as I passed her and retrieved a glass from the back shelf.

A shadow fell over the room as I reached into the refrigerator and grabbed the carton of orange juice from the top shelf. When I turned to pour the glass, I saw the whole of a school bus stretched across the expanse of window out front.

"Denzel!" Tifa called. "Your bus is here! Hurry up, or you're going to be late!"

He ran down the stairs as Marlene reached over the counter and accepted the juice with a delighted thank-you. "I can't leave without my paper," he complained.

"Honey, the bus isn't going to wait," she said, folding the top of a paper bag over and setting it on the end of the bar. "What is it?"

"The report I wrote up last night," he answered, tugging frustratedly on his hair with one hand. "My current event assignment. If I go in without it, I'll fail the grade. I can't hand it in tomorrow."

Tifa sighed and put her hands on her hips as Marlene and I watched from our vantage point. "You can't remember where you put it?"

"No," he groaned.

"Well you have to keep track of these things. I guess you can count this as a lesson learned." She reached for his coat where it hung on a hook in the wall. "Off you go, now."

"No way!" he protested. "I'll walk if I have to!"

"You'll never make it in time," she countered. "It would take you at least an hour, and you'd be freezing by the time you got there." Outside, the driver blew his horn.

"I'll just be an hour late, then. I'll tell them I got sick this morning; no kid fakes being sick and then goes in anyway."

"Denzel..." Her voice was a warning.

"What?" he asked, shooting a smile over his shoulder as he crossed the room swiftly, peeking under a corner booth. "You won't let me do that?"

Eerie, how much he reminded me of myself at that age. Stubborn, cocky, and making excuses. Smart about it, too. And always late. Lanky and sly. I nearly got a chill, watching him stand there, and I couldn't help but want to give the kid a break. At least he cared about his grades. "I'll take him."

Tifa looked over at me, surprised by the gesture. "Vincent, you don't have to."

"I know," I said, shooting her the same easy grin he had, a silent promise that things would work themselves out. "But I bet I can buy him some time."

She hesitated for a minute, but then she sighed, returning the smile. Then she walked over to the door, opening it just enough that the driver could see her, and she waved him on.

"Are you sure you didn't pick it up last night?" he asked. "I know I was down here when I finished it, before we went to Nell and Dev's place. Vincent, you were here."

I blinked, suddenly reminded that my presence last night hadn't gone unnoticed. And if it came up... offering to take him might not have been a good idea after all. "I didn't see it, no. Where did you go right after you finished it?"

"I went upstairs to get ready," he said, frowning.

"No you didn't," Marlene interrupted. "You came to ask me to borrow a folder."

Denzel's eyes popped open as he opened his mouth to respond. I could see the gears beginning to turn.

"I gave him my red one," she continued, her statement directed at me, "but he left it on the dresser."

"Oh-!" He snapped his fingers and ran back upstairs. Sure enough, he returned with the red folder in his hands, flipping through it with a grin on his face. "Thank the gods, Marlene. Thank _you_." He picked up his bag and shoved it in.

"I guess we should get going, then. The car's out back," I said, fishing around in my pocket. "Does Marlene need a ride, too?"

"No," Tifa replied. "Her school starts later, and it's in the opposite direction. The bus will come get her."

I nodded, still fishing around. Now, where were...?

Uh-oh.

"Tifa, have you seen my keys?"

"I have them," she said. "They're up in my room; they fell out of your pocket when you went to sleep. I'll go get them."

I watched her in disbelief as she disappeared up the steps. And I wasn't the only one. Clearly she had no idea what she'd just said, and what it sounded like.

"I fell asleep during the movie," I heard myself say.

He blinked. "...Okay...?"

§

Ever since Denzel had commented on my being there the previous night, I'd been guarding against any negative reactions. Nevermind that he'd seen me in the den. I'd just assumed that he'd expected me to go home after that, but maybe that was assuming too much.

Instead, he'd seemed more confused by my reaction to what Tifa had said than her own words. Automatically, the defensive part of my brain kicked in, and I wondered whether or not I'd made myself look more suspicious by the way I'd seized the opportunity to clarify things. It was as if what I had said... he only took to be what would naturally follow. Like I didn't need to explain myself. Like it was... an unnecessary waste of air.

"Ah... where am I to head?"

"Fifth and Central."

I tried to put myself in his shoes. I was a man, in his house, spending time with his adoptive mother. He went to sleep, woke up, and I was still there. Denzel was older; he wasn't ignorant. But he was also young, and attached to both his foster parents. So why didn't he have the nagging impulse to inquisition me?

...And what happened after I fell asleep?

"What's that like?"

I blinked. "What's what like?"

"Your arm. How does it work?"

Huh. He was interested in my arm. Any young male would be; we love technology. And I found myself strangely obliged to indulge him, though sadly I didn't have too terribly much to say on the subject. "Well," I frowned, "it's mechanical. Bionics, animatronics... I don't know much about it."

"Yeah," he said, "but how does it work? Like... how does it know what you want it to do?"

I turned a corner, mouth twitching. "It reads my nerve signals. Other than that, I really don't know. I'm not very mechanical."

"Do you have to charge it at night?"

I nearly laughed. "No."

"Batteries? Solar power?"

"I told you, Denzel," I said smiling, "I don't know how it works."

He shrugged. "That's so cool, though. I wonder if I could make something like that one day."

If he kept asking as many questions as he did, I didn't doubt he'd probably gather enough information. I did like my new arm; I found it fascinating. Even grown men are still prone to liking gadgets and gizmos, whether we know much about them or not. Cid's entire life's work is an investment in mechanical engineering, a prime example of an older man who... well, he's more like a child in disguise. In fact, that's probably the boy in all of us. Well, whatever. In any case, I did agree with him; my arm _was_ cool. That didn't mean, however, that I didn't wish for the one I was born with.

"Did it hurt when they replaced it?"

"No," I frowned. "I just made an appointment and they switched it with the old one."

I felt the boy shift around in his seat to face the window. "I meant the first time."

"Oh." Right. "Then yes."

"It doesn't hurt anymore, though?" he asked. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye; he was watching the streets fly by.

"No." Then I had an idea, one that he might be interested in, and one that might keep him talking and ease my own discomfort. "But sometimes I can still feel it."

He turned to face me. "Feel what?"

"My arm," I answered, wiggling my fingers over the steering wheel. "My brain tricks itself every once in a while, and it fills in the missing blanks. Like déja vu, but in my nerves. So that when I make a fist or brush up against something, it feels like it would if it were flesh."

Denzel's eyes widened, then he gave me a cautious smile, skeptical. "...Nuh-uh."

I grinned, switching lanes. "It's called a phantom limb."

"Really?"

"Mm-hm. But sometimes my reaction's a little off you know, and it trips me up, like when I'm judging the distance between my hand and an object by sight alone, and then I feel something I don't expect to feel. I've shattered a few dishes and other small things that way."

"How often does that happen?"

"Not often. Just a few times, really. It really startled me the first time."

"I bet," he laughed. "But how can it fill in the blanks? I mean, everything's different for you now, right?"

I narrowed my eyes at the red lights in front of me. "My routine is different, yes. But if my right hand knows what it feels like, I think my brain can use that information to construct the inverse."

"Wow."

I smirked, pulling into the parking lot. There were still kids milling about outside of the school. "We're here."

"Thanks." Denzel grabbed his bookbag and settled his hand on the door. But he was hesitating. "...Can I ask you something?"

I braced myself. "...All right."

He took a deep breath. "How do you feel about Tifa?"

I hadn't expected that one. Not from someone so young, and not from someone I hadn't spent much time talking to, even when I'd taken to hanging around the bar. Certainly not from an adolescent boy. "It's complicated," I said, my mouth tightening into a thin, concentrated line.

"Do you care about her?"

"...Of course."

"Do you like her?"

I smiled for a second, but I can't be sure what sad excuse that turned into. "I do." I wondered what that meant for him. "Does that bother you?"

He sat back in his seat, settling his bag on his lap. "No. She seems to cheer up when you're around."

"Still?"

He frowned. "Why not?"

Damn my carelessness. "Nothing."

"Because Cloud's leaving? Tifa told me, I already know about that." He fiddled with the zippers on the bag. "...Are you dating her?"

"Not right now, no."

"Are you going to?"

I didn't even know the answer to that one. The kid had guts, asking things like that. "That's up to her."

He frowned. "Is he leaving because of you and her?'

"No," I was quick to say. Maybe a little too quick. "No..."

"She's been unhappy for a while. You think she'll be happier without him?"

"...Denzel, I don't know if you and I should be having this conversation. Relationships get complicated when children are involved."

He laughed. "Relationships are always complicated, or at least that's what people say. I'm thirteen, you know. I understand what's going on."

I grimaced. "All I'm saying is... I remember when my parents fought all the time. They had a terrible relationship, and it was hell being in the middle of it. You certainly don't need me jumping in there, too. The last thing I want is for Cloud to have another reason to be furious with me."

"Why is he furious with you?"

I sighed and leaned back against the cushions. "It's... complicated."

He laughed again. "Uh-huh. So... what did your parents fight about?"

"Everything," I smirked. "My mother always complained about how it was great in the beginning, so I'm assuming it was good at some point."

"What happened?"

"I suspect my father turned my mother into a bitter fishwife."

"A... what?"

"It's an expression," I said, shrugging one shoulder. "She was always very pleasant to me, and I loved her dearly. Very giving, very compassionate and nurturing. But I think my father drove her a bit crazy."

"Crazy? Like how?"

It was odd, reliving these memories, but they served their purpose. "He was a free spirit; not a care in the world. He was in love with his work, his research. A very interesting man, the kind that would attract people with his stories and knowledge. He was full of energy, and he would tackle every job of his with a certain zeal. He was the kind of person anyone would like to get to know. I imagine that's why my mother fell in love with him. I remember how animated he was when he was telling me about his travels, back when I was very small. But he began coming around less and less, and there was nothing my mother could do about it. That amazing brain of his took him many places... everywhere except home." I crossed my arms and rubbed my chin. "It's hard to have a healthy relationship with someone when you never see each other. Both of my parents were very different people when they were apart. Honestly, I liked them better that way."

"...Yeah. I think I understand."

"I think it's harder when you grow up with something, and then it's taken away. But I don't remember our whole family ever being happy together." I narrowed my eyes. "I thought you would be angry at me, or afraid that I was trying to take his place."

Denzel shrugged. "I can see him whenever I want. I just want them both to be happy. I think it would be pretty selfish, if I asked them to both hang around in the house, not getting along, just because I wanted it to work."

I blinked and looked over at him. "You said you were thirteen?"

He grinned unrepentantly. "Yeah."

"And you're not upset?" I asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"Well yeah, I kinda wished it'd worked out. But if they can both find something they like better," he shrugged, "well, there you go."

"But they're your family."

"Not really," he said. "My family died in Midgar. I love Tifa and Cloud and I respect them both, but they're more like a big sister and brother to me. Cloud's not around as much, but yeah, they're all I have. Them and Marlene, and her dad. But I'm not losing him. They don't have to be _together_, for me to have them both."

I opened my mouth, then shut it. "...You seem to have a pretty good handle on the situation."

"I grew up too fast."

"...Yeah?"

"That's what people tell me."

"Hm."

"Just... be careful with Tifa, okay?" he said. "Even if you're not... whatever. She's been through a lot."

Was he having the 'What are your Intentions with my Daughter' talk with me? Coming from him, that was sort of... well, actually... the kid had guts, I'll say that. I smiled wistfully. "I know."

We were interrupted by the sounding of a bell.

"Is that for you?"

"First bell," he said, fisting the material of his pack. "I gotta get going. Thanks for the ride, again."

"No problem," I said, as he exited the car and shut the door, heading off to class.

I pulled out of the parking lot and merged back into traffic. No, I mused, I was never like _that_. Reckless and crafty, maybe, but not like that. Oh, I wouldn't put it past him to be a little manipulative, as he had the skills, but I couldn't help thinking Tifa was lucky. Just when I was beginning to think all teenagers were spawned from pure evil.

§

After breakfast at the bar, I drove downtown and took a walk around the neighborhood. There was a band setting up outside the museum, and the sounds of their warm-up echoed down the streets; the restaurants were opening at this hour, their various smells drifting through the air outside their doors; a new show room was opening on one corner, blown glass, all sort of shapes and colors. I thought Tifa might enjoy it if I brought her there.

Helplessly stuck without a thing to be done, and already I was browsing for good date locations. And, damn it all, I'd forgotten to find out whether or not she'd spent the night next to me. I sighed to myself and headed back to the parking garage, turning in my ticket and heading home. I spent the rest of the afternoon lazing about my apartment.

I received a phone call in the early evening. I didn't even bother to look at the display, thinking it could only be one in a handful of people. "Hello?"

"Vincent."

He said my name differently, like it was somehow harder, or it left a bitter taste in his mouth. "Cloud."

The line was silent for a moment, but he spoke eventually, reluctantly. "I'm outside the building. Would you mind coming down?"

I walked over to the window and pried a couple of the blinds open with my fingers. He was leaning against his bike, idling in the guest parking lot, outside the downstairs garage. He didn't look overly menacing, but he was pretty far away. I frowned. "What's this about?"

"What else would it be about?" He sighed. "...I just want to talk."

I tossed my options back and forth in my head. He did have his sword mounted on his bike, but he always had it with him when he rode out. I didn't think he'd take a swing at me anyway, but when it came to physical confrontation, I didn't like to deal in chance.

I _could_ tuck a revolver into my waistband, just for in case, but that might be inviting trouble.

Now, I was no coward. We both knew that I was going to go down there, no matter my feelings on the matter. But I also knew that if he wanted to hurt me, he could, and I'd never have the time to get a clean shot off him, kneecap or elsewhere at that close a range, should I need to disarm him. It didn't matter what I was carrying; I wasn't who I used to be. Or at least, I wasn't who I had become for a time. Take away my demons, and I'm just an ordinary man with extraordinarily good aim. Just like a very long time ago, though I'd like to think I'm a bit wiser for the wear.

I turned away from the window. "I'm coming down."

"I'll be here."

I paused. That almost sounded like a challenge. I glanced over at my closet, deliberating; gun, or no gun? No, I decided. No gun.

His bike was parked out in front of the building by the time I'd reached the bottom. He was pacing around on the asphalt, looking a little frustrated and unsure. I stopped at the edge of the sidewalk and sat myself down on the concrete, waiting patiently for him to start. I hadn't really thought about what I might say to him; I honestly hadn't gotten that far, thinking that one day we were going to have to have a conversation about this. Cid was right though, there was a time when we were all equally tied to each other, more or less.

...Except for Cloud and Tifa. They had been the exception. Barret, possibly, but the rest of us were outsiders to them, at the start of things. And I almost hadn't met any of them. They could have just as easily passed me over. How strange, that now I was going to have to account for this.

"I'm not sure where to begin," he said, frowning. That made two of us.

"You must have wanted to say something to me, if you came out here."

Cloud crossed his arms. "Yeah."

And then he did something that surprised me. He walked over and sat next to me, maybe a couple of feet away. I had this nagging impulse to scoot away, or stand up.

"I'm trying not to hate you," he said, resting his elbows on his knees and picking at his glove, "because I know it's just going to make things harder in the long run. But it's hard." He chuckled dryly, a short and humorless sound. "I mean, Tifa and the kids were the only constant thing in my life."

I knew I was going to end up feeling like a jerk. The defensive part in me wanted to point out that there were a lot of constant things in his life - not things he could own or hold, but behaviors, and the things that he was - that had also been constantly dragging Tifa down, but I held my tongue and let him continue.

"But sometimes it's a lot," he said. "More than I wanted." Cloud sighed and gestured helplessly with his hands. "That whole life... it's stressful sometimes. Most of the time. More often than not, I just find myself not wanting to come home.

"I'm only twenty-six," he said. "You know, I picked this job because I could get out and keep moving? See things, have some time to myself. I'm not ready to figure out what I want, or to settle down and find a routine. Tifa's looking for something more serious, and I just can't deal with that yet."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "But you wanted to hang onto her?"

Cloud grimaced. "It was still really nice to have someone to come home to, somewhere I felt welcome and missed. You know, I never went looking for that anywhere else. I never cheated on her. Not once."

"...And you told her that?"

"Yeah." His mouth twitched in regret. "She said I might as well have, because it felt the same."

I knew I might get hell for it, but it had to be said anyway. I made sure to not sound too knowing, too vengeful, like I had so many of my own feelings invested in this. Which I did. "What did you expect?"

"I... what?" he finally turned to look at me.

"Think about how hard it must have been on her, to be stuck all alone in this life you think is so difficult. What did you want her to do?"

Cloud frowned. "I didn't know she was unhappy."

"You couldn't see it? Everyone else could."

"She never _said_ she was unhappy. She never said she needed a change, or that what we had wasn't good enough for her."

"Yes she did," I intoned firmly.

"When?"

"Three_ years _ago."

The boy set his jaw, and it was then that I realized that he really was oblivious to her state. He did really think that she was going to wait for him, because she always had. And I had been there, waiting. I'd reminded her that she could be wanted by someone else, that there was a life waiting for her outside of Cloud, and that she didn't have to resign herself to her previous choices. She was awake, and he resented me for it.

"Why did you want her to wait, then?" I asked. "If you didn't want the same things?"

I had called him selfish, in a roundabout way. At least I'd hoped he would see it like that. "I don't know," he said. "I didn't... want to be alone. We weren't going anywhere, but at least we weren't alone. And I thought that maybe if I ever did decide I wanted something more, she would be there."

"You can't ask her to wait indefinitely."

"I know," he replied. "She said she wouldn't, anyway. She needs something else, and we both know I can't give it to her. Just... do me a favor?"

I swallowed hard. "What's that?"

"Don't... take the kids away, too."

"...I had no intentions of doing that," I said, surprised. "Didn't she say you could see them whenever you wanted?"

He grimaced. "Yeah, but you know how it is. I'm the odd one out. If she's complaining about something I did, and you agree, and they hear you, then I look like the bad guy. Besides, I'm gone a lot. I'm sure they'll see more of her and even Barret than they will of me."

"Cloud, I'm not going to badmouth you in front of the kids." I sighed. "It's not even like that... not at all."

"Right," he said, standing and brushing himself off. "But it's going to happen, sooner or later. They already see you more often."

"Then I guess you'll just have to make the time," I replied softly.

Cloud frowned, but nodded anyway. "Yeah. I can do that." Then he turned and mounted his bike, and I stood up from my spot on the walkway. "You know, I'd like to stay friends with her," he said.

"I figured that was how it would be," I shrugged, crossing my arms as I shifted my weight uncomfortably. It would be odd, but it was something I could live with. It wouldn't be fair to ask anything less of her. And there I went again, thinking in terms of my uncertain relationship with Tifa as if it were a sure thing.

"Well. I've got some things to sort out tonight. I promised Tifa we'd work up some kind of schedule before she opened the bar tonight, and I've got to make some calls before it gets too late," he said, donning his goggles. "I think I might have found a place."

"To live?"

"Uh-huh. I might be staying in Kalm for a while. I'm not really sure."

I narrowed my eyes. "I thought you would be staying around here."

He shook his head. "It's weird. I won't be too far, though." He chuckled again, that sad, dry sound. Defeated. "I have to get a car now, if I want to come and pick them up."

"I wouldn't mind helping with that."

"It's a little soon for that. I might be civil, but I don't want to see you that often."

I nodded. "I understand." Another hard swallow, because for some reason, I already hated admitting it, especially to him. But it needed to be put out there, if only for the sake of understanding. "...We're not together, you know."

"I know."

He started his bike up and peeled out into the street, headed toward Seventh Heaven. I went back upstairs, knowing I would want to call her later, around closing time. I hoped she wouldn't be affected too badly by whatever passed between them that night, but I was also reminded that I couldn't be her shoulder to cry on anymore, not without appearing like I had another agenda. She was well aware that my concern for her was genuine, but my feelings were on the table now. I had a conflict of interest. And I had to let her breathe.

Breakfast had been fine; comfortable, at least from what I could tell. If she wanted to call me before morning, she would. Yes, I told myself, I could wait until morning at least.

I couldn't help thinking over my conversation with Denzel earlier in the day. I'd told him I didn't want to get in the middle of the way Cloud and Tifa wanted to handle the situation as far as he and Marlene were concerned, and that had been exactly what Cloud was afraid of. And that brought me to another striking realization, one I was surprised I had never noticed before, or at least hadn't acknowledged; Cloud reminded me of my own father when I was small. In fact, if I really thought about it, the situation was almost exactly the same. And suddenly I found myself wondering whether or not what I had been through as a child, and what I'd seen my mother go through, had prepared me for this. And I also wondered if I wouldn't have acted the same, if it wouldn't have come so naturally to me to empathize, if my own situation had been different. As it was, my emotions were more deeply invested in this than I had originally thought.

...Make that _two_ conflicts of interest.

* * *

_**Notes, March 11, 2007: **I decided to spin the Denzel issue differently. I know many of you are under the impression that he'd turn into a snot-nosed little brat, but it's different for some children, especially those who haven't been exposed to a strong family relationship for an extended amount of time._

_That said, I hope this idea of mine doesn't become the next cliché. I should get to keep something of mine all to myself after all this "Tifa Walks In on Horribly Scarred-Up Vincent" and "Candy Hearts" business, and all the other recycling that's going around these days. For my resourcefulness. And being that my writing is mostly steeped in my own experiences, and always pretty personal. Because if not, I'm going to quit writing the VinTif. Seriously, I mean it. I'll do it... yep... I will... don't make me..._

_Yes, I said it!  
_

_Reviews/feedback are awesomey awesomeness._

_♥ Dark_


	15. The Ache

**15**

**The Ache**

She was beautiful, sitting there in the fading light of day, face cradled in her palm and eyes a million miles away. She wore the barest hint of a smile on her lips as she watched the sun setting over the horizon from our window in the restaurant, high above the ground at the pinnacle of one of the hotels on the edge of the city. The amber rays lit her skin aglow and glinted in her dark hair, making her tresses shine auburn and copper and so many other colors I could not name.

Gods, but she was beautiful. And I loved her more than anything or anyone I had ever known. How would I ever be able to live without the freedom to express exactly how much?

"Here we are."

The server's voice caught me off-guard, lost as I was admiring Tifa. If he'd noticed, it wasn't made obvious; no smooth comments on how beautiful my companion was, or anything like that. Often, people in the service industry are not sensitive to the fragility of such moments, and do not tiptoe around them. I'd seen Tifa press forward through plenty of intimate moments herself; where good use of time means more tables, and more tables means more money, she simply cannot afford not to.

"Blue Ahi Tuna," he said, placing the appetizer between the two of us. We waited while he refilled our glasses with water, before making for the food. The smooth, white plate was of a lop-sided, triangular design, spattered with wasabi and streaked with blueberry teriyaki. Crumpled ribbons of what looked like beet shavings adorned the top of the peppered fish, along with several thin, stick-like things that reminded me of incense. Hand-fashioned blooms made of pickled ginger garnished the corners.

"It should be a crime to eat something that looks this good," Tifa said, clearly impressed.

I chuckled at the delight in her eyes. "It would be a crime to waste it."

"Shall I get the wine list?" the server asked as he set Tifa's glass in front of her and finished pouring the water into mine.

Tifa bit her lip. "I really shouldn't," she replied. When her eyes met mine, I felt a small pang of guilt. It wasn't as if neither one of us could control ourselves, and it wasn't as if we would be falling into bed together at our first taste of alcohol. But there was still the unresolved issue of Tifa's possible pregnancy.

"I think we'll be fine," I said to him, frowning in feigned contemplation.

"Very well," he went on. "My name is Robert; let me know if you need anything. I'll be 'round to check on you in a little while." And with those words he turned tail and left, patented tip-happy grin on his face.

Tifa narrowed her eyes at the dish, humming at the sight. "I wonder what those are?" she wondered aloud, pointing at the stick-things in the middle of the display.

"Hmm. Let's see, then." I pulled one of them from its standing position in the meat and broke the tip off against the plate, bringing it to my lips. It was brittle and sparse, crumbling to pieces in my mouth but slow to disintegrate. I let it sit on my tongue for a minute, pulling what flavor I could from it. "It's familiar," I finally said, "though I'm not quite sure what it is."

"Oh! Well, let me try." She reached out and broke another piece from the stick, popping it into her mouth. "Huh," she said after a moment's consideration, "sesame, maybe?"

"I think you might be right. But maybe we should eat the rest of this before it gets cold," I suggested with a smile.

Tifa nodded in agreement and picked up her fork, and together we pulled the fish apart. It was very rare, not even too warm in the center, but just right. I watched her smear a piece in the sauce before bringing it to her mouth, pausing to examine it intently as she turned the fork in her fingers. Her eyes shut for a second as she savored the dish, then flicked up to greet me. "It's good."

"It is."

"...Did you know Cloud found himself a place to stay?" she asked, almost passively as her gaze returned to the plate we were sharing.

I frowned, the chewing of my food suddenly becoming a chore, rather than a pleasure. "He had mentioned something about that when we last saw each other."

"That's right," she said, reaching for her glass. "I'd forgotten he stopped by your place a couple of weeks ago."

He had been the one to tell her, as I'd found out the next morning when she'd called me. Their conversation had been long and strained, lasting far into her setup for the evening, and she'd found herself ill-prepared for the night. Stressed out and with certain terms still not laid to rest, she'd endured, waiting until morning to call for the sake of my rest.

Tifa would need at least forty-eight hours notice if Cloud wanted an unscheduled weekend with the kids. Barret would help out with things in Kalm, transportation and the like. Cloud would have to learn to trust my presence in Edge. And I had told Tifa that she didn't need to worry about my rest, foolishly placing myself further at her disposal, even though this was something I'd already told her, rather than relishing the fact that she still concerned herself with my well-being. A fact which I should have nurtured, instead of sacrificing, if the two of us were going to grow together and healthily.

But I somehow knew that she would still hold back, not wanting to outwear her welcome. And I think that was a big part of why I loved her; she never assumed anything, even when it was unconditionally offered. She could trust in something genuine when it was given, but she never made snap judgements about a situation, or a person, or assumed that every rule applied in every case. Because people changed, and grew, and didn't remain static representations of their histories. Not all the time.

At least that was how it was supposed to work. People are irrational, moody, dynamic creatures, and beautiful at that, though I was only beginning to realize it. And I loved her for that, too.

"So he decided to take the offer," I mused.

"Actually, no," she said, her eyes finally meeting mine again. "He got a better deal not too far from there. A better neighborhood, tighter security. A pool," she added, an eyebrow twitching to match her growing look of amusement. Ah, so it seemed he had one-upped us.

...Us?

"Hmph," I chuckled through my nose. "Good for him, then."

She laughed. "Weekends at Cloud's. No homework, no chores, no responsibilites. All fun and games. They'll never want to come home now."

I grinned shyly at her, again pinned down by her gaze and unable to remove myself. "Yes, they will."

Her expression softened then, and for a moment I imagined she was looking into me instead of at me; no longer reflecting mirrors, but prying hands, stripping things away until I was bare. The meaning in my words was obvious, but I felt not unlike some unworthy thing under a microscope when she was looking at me then, her eyes so dark, like jumping into a pool though unable to see the bottom. _There are plenty of reasons why I should want to stick around, and it is no different with the children_.

"How is everything here?"

We were snapped from the moment, and no longer engaged, turned in unison to see our waiter standing over us.

"Is the tuna good?"

"Ah...yes," Tifa replied, blinking. "It's very good."

"Shall I wait to place your food order?" he asked.

I frowned, looking over at Tifa. "Are you ready?"

She nodded. "I am. I'll have the scallion-encrusted salmon," she said, turning to him. "That sauce sounds too good to pass up."

Orange-lime sabayon, toasted almond, honey ginger; it did sound good. However, I had a craving of a different kind. "I'll have the Junon crab cakes."

Tifa raised an eyebrow at Robert, as I gathered her menu and handed both to him. "Are those really Junon crab cakes?" she asked, skeptically.

"Yes, we receive our crab fresh from their commercial fishermen," he replied.

"I mean the recipe," she clarified, smiling at me. "You know, they usually put a bunch of filler in those; cheese, onions, celery. A real Junon crab cake is just lump crab meat and some seasoning. And whatever breading you need to hold it together."

Robert grinned. "She is right. Fortunately, you won't have any complaints here."

I rested my chin in my hand, smiling and murmuring an amused thank-you as he turned and strode away, not quite sure for whom I had intended it. My eyes flicked over to Tifa, and she laughed and apologized.

"Sorry."

"It's all right," I said. "After all, I wouldn't want to order the wrong thing."

"I know," she said, resting her forehead on two fingertips as she recovered. "It was silly of me to assume..."

"I have been here before."

Tifa lifted and tilted her head curiously at me. "Who did you bring?"

"Ah... no one," I said, straightening and returning my attention to the table. "I do sometimes order out, though. Cooking for one person is almost pointless."

I could feel her eyes boring into my skull, but I chose to lift another piece of the fish onto my plate instead. "Vincent, do you ever dine out alone?"

I frowned. "There isn't much point in surrounding myself with a crowd if I want to be alone."

"...Do you choose to be alone? I mean..." she trailed off quietly. She wasn't trying to be cruel; I knew what she meant. She'd told me I didn't have to wait, and there was also a time before, after Omega and before I'd realized my feelings for her, when I wasn't attached to anyone at all; we'd had conversations about that in the past, why I never pursued anyone. I chose the opportunity to hand her an answer that was as equally vague.

"I chose to ask you out here," I said, eyes meeting her briefly before I reached for my glass. I raised it to my mouth, effectively silencing the conversation. She could take that however she wanted. I only wanted to be with her.

She smiled at me. It wasn't piteous or sad, but it also didn't make any promises she wasn't sure she could keep.

After that, dinner went by rather smoothly. We talked about safe things, like the children and how they were doing in school, the bar, my writing. I was rather vague on that last point, but she seemed satisfied enough. When our waiter came by to offer the dessert menu, Tifa immediately declined.

"I'm sorry," she said, "but I couldn't even finish the main course."

Robert looked surprised. "There was nothing wrong with it, I hope?"

"No, the food was great," Tifa replied. "I just don't feel very well."

I took in her appearance; strange that I didn't notice it before. She looked both pale and nauseous, queasy. I handed Robert my charge-card, and he nodded and left to print up the bill.

"...Are you all right?" I asked.

Tifa wrapped her arms about herself, and her face took on a nerve-wracked expression. "I don't know," she said.

"That tuna was pretty rare."

"No," she shook her head, "I eat tuna sushi all the time. That's not it." Her eyes darted about the room. "I'm going to go find a bathroom. I'll meet you outside."

"Is there anything I can do?" I asked as she stood. What a silly question.

"I don't think so, but thanks. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Soon after she walked away, our server came back and apologized for how she was feeling, offering his hopes that she would be all right. I filled in a tip - generous enough as he was professional and didn't stare Tifa down like so many other men would have - and strolled out of the building to wait by the entrance.

It was ten minutes before she joined me. And one look at her face told me she'd been wiping at tears. Her face was dry, but she couldn't hide her puffy eyes.

"Feeling any better?" I asked as she stepped to the curb.

She didn't look up, only faced the parking lot. She didn't step forward either, only kept her eyes straight ahead. She looked more than a little troubled.

"Tifa?" I reached out to touch her cheek; she slowly turned in my direction, but her gaze remained averted. "Tifa, what's wrong?"

She didn't say anything, only stepped to me and wrapped her arms around my sides, her hands slipping in underneath my jacket. She silently laid her head against my chest and shut her eyes as she held me tightly.

Very tightly.

I was still afraid, but I could be brave enough to ask the question. I slowly reached up and brushed the hair from her forehead, wrapping my arms around her, returning the embrace. "Do you think you're having... morning sickness?"

It was then that I saw a lone tear escape down her cheek. She reached up to wipe it away, and let out a short, not-quite laugh, bitter and tinged with something like loss. "No. I'm not pregnant," she whispered.

Most women in her particular situation would be relieved; Tifa was desperately unhappy. "Tifa, look at me."

She shook her head, and her breath shook as well when she inhaled sharply. "...I c-can't."

"Why can't you?" I asked, equally soft so as not to upset her further.

I felt her fingers clutch at the material on my back, and she buried her face in my chest. "Because it's you. I don't know, I just..."

An elderly couple brushed past us, and I carefully guided her out of the way. "Come on," I said, gesturing to one of the benches. "Let's walk over here."

We limped over together - lopsided, four-legged thing that we were - and sat down. I cradled her in my arms and trailed the side of her face with my fingers. "Please look at me."

"Vincent..."

"Please. What's the worst that could happen?"

"Well..."

"You can't hide from me forever," I said quietly. Gods, I hoped not.

Slowly, she allowed me to lift her chin, and for a moment, she met my eyes. But she shut them tightly as more tears began to escape, and she ducked her head down again. "...Things are never going to go back to the way they were, are they?"

I set my jaw. "No, I don't think so."

"It's just that I thought about it a lot," she sobbed. "What it might be like."

"...Did you want to be?"

She lifted her head. "Today?"

If she had been smiling, I would have taken it as a poor stab at a joke. But she wasn't smiling, and gods help me, I tried not to. But I did. "Hormones?"

She nodded. "Part of me really did want it," she said, sniffing. "Vincent, you're my best friend. And until recently, we'd never crossed that line. But I know now isn't the time; gods, I don't even know if I could handle you. We've never made big decisions together, never even had a real fight. Come to think of it," she paused, "we've never fought at all, about anything."

I nodded, patiently. I could see that she was working something out that had been weighing on her.

"But some days," she continued, "it just felt like maybe it was right. These last two weeks have been very confusing. Every time I saw baby clothes in a store window, or... and now I can't stop thinking, what if you can't have children?"

I grimaced. "That's a big step, only to prove I'm viable. I have plenty of time to get that checked out."

She shook her head. "I just can't help feeling like we lost something."

I knew then, that she loved me. Most likely more than she knew at the time. She was having a difficult time defining it still, but there was no question about it; I only hoped that she would figure it out for herself and soon, because this conversation, heartfelt as it was, was starting to feel like a strange goodbye.

"I don't know, maybe I was just looking for an easy answer, some direction, even if it wasn't the wisest thing. I just feel like I'm waiting around to be ready, to figure things out while I'm stuck. And part of me wants to jump into this with you, and another part of me knows that once I figure out all of my feelings and all of these circumstances, I might realize I've made a mistake. And it's a terrible feeling."

"Tifa," I said, "it's good to take things slowly, to figure out what is best. You're doing fine."

She wiped at her eyes. "I'm sorry. It's hurts, looking at you right now. Because... because things are different, and they always will be."

I wanted to take her home right then and there, and simply _love_ her tears away. If only she were mine. I ran my fingers through her hair, and she looked at me anyway.

"I know you now," she said, blushing, "in a way I didn't before. And I thought I could pretend that it was the same old thing between us, but it's not. When I look at you, it's different." She clasped her hands firmly in her lap. "I guess... I'm just going to have to get used to things being different between us."

"And if you can't?"

"Well," she said, "then I've got bigger problems. Because I'm not cutting you out of my life."

That was all I needed to hear. "Fair enough," I said, and I leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. She stilled, and while she was less than stable, I took this as a good thing; she would have thought nothing of it if Cid or Barret had done the same thing, but there was a certain significance now when it came from me. I rose from the bench and offered her my hand, and she took it, standing with me. I placed my arm around her shoulders, and we walked out to the parking lot. "Let's get you home."

"All right," she said softly, wiping the last of the tears from her eyes. She leaned her head against my side, and we walked to the car together.

* * *

_**Notes: **Haha, crab cakes. I say this because Joe is from Maryland, and everywhere we go, he says, "That is not a real crab cake. I know real crab cakes. I am from Maryland." It happens a lot down here in the Bay, since everyone thinks they know seafood, so I get to have a silly grin every now and then._

_I was stuck between giving Tifa her period or a miscarriage. But that was enough drama for me. _

_This chapter was difficult to write, because I honestly wasn't feeling it at all. Just not in the mood, I guess, and writer's block like whoa, but I wanted to get this out there. I've got a lot weighing on my mind, and a lot of other projects, writing, art, fandom and original likewise, and many other things that have nothing to do with being online. That, and while the number of readers that put this piece on alert and favorites keeps going up, the lack of outright responsiveness to the story keeps increasing with each update, which is also kind of discouraging. _

_Hopefully I can get back into this soon and march through it. I have my ideas set up, only constructing them with words and getting them to flow coherently and in a way I can be proud of is the challenge. That, and making myself sit down until it's done. Lots of other things itching at my brain, begging me to try them, so we'll see what happens, and where my muse takes me. I think I might go work on some gifts owed for a little while, and another pairing I'm trying my hand at (you'll either love or hate it, but I'm going to write it anyways, because it won't leave me alone now)._

_I updated fairly early tonight though, so you can go and watch Scrubs, or whatever you do on a Thursday night. Also, I lifted the food from a restaurant I love. You can view the menu at snappersseagrill (dot) com._

_I almost forgot (well I did, last time): the movie from chapter 13 was Scent of a Woman. Yay, Lunarblade! She got it.  
_


	16. Histories, Truths and Future Plans

**16**

**Histories, Truths and Future Plans  
**

Over the next couple of months, I witnessed a change in Tifa. She seemed to grow more comfortable in her skin. She held her head up; she didn't slouch anymore, and she didn't avert her eyes. And her smiles, they were so genuine, a far cry from the ones she'd been giving me in the months prior—those ugly-beautiful things that only a crying woman can manage. Tifa no longer had anything to hide, or to hide from.

It really was beautiful.

"So, the word on the street is that you have a ghost-hand," she said, winking as she plopped down onto the couch beside me.

She'd been talking to Denzel. I didn't bother to ask what else they might have talked about. I didn't think I could bring myself to, and I didn't really want to know what her reactions to the same questions he'd asked me might have been. Curious, yes—but still so afraid. "Hm," I hummed, forcing a smile. "Is that the word now?"

Tifa nodded, then reached out and snatched the bottle in my hand away. "What is this?" she asked. "Do you mind if I—?"

"You won't like it."

She shook her head, and tipped the glass to her open mouth.

Her disposition was decidedly brighter. I sometimes found myself wondering if she'd ever been like that in Midgar, before I'd met her the first time. I couldn't understand how anyone in their right mind would let this fantastic woman slip right out of their hands, and _passively_, with signs all over the place. Gods.

"Ahm." The bottle left her lips then, and she shut her eyes, tilting her head to one side. Her eyebrows shot up, and she blinked at me for a second. "What's in that?"

I grinned. "It's an ethnic drink, something they make in the canyon. That's the real thing, there—you can get it anywhere, but I went to a special store to get the original."

"It tastes like someone poured espresso on my corn flakes," she said, frowning.

"Can't say I didn't warn you," I chuckled. "I told you that you wouldn't like it."

She lifted an eyebrow at me. "What would the other kind taste like?"

"Sweeter," I said. "Artificially. So... like creamy coffee on sugary cornflakes, I suppose."

"Huh," she clipped, narrowing her eyes. And then she smiled. "Let me try it again."

I handed the bottle over with an amused expression, thoroughly expecting the same reaction. I enjoyed little moments like these with Tifa. They seemed to be happening more frequently all the time. We spent so much time together, anyone else would have called it dating; I would have called her my girlfriend, had it not been practically stated that it wasn't that kind of relationship—at our age, those things are assumed, not stated. But it was. I wondered if she realized that's exactly how we were, excepting the fact that we didn't sleep together.

"Well, I guess it could grow on me," she laughed. "Where did you first pick that up?"

I relaxed into the cushions and let my head rest on the back of the couch. "My mother used to make it back home."

Tifa readjusted herself, leaning on an elbow. "Where is home for you, Vincent?"

Sighing, I smiled to myself as I tried to piece together my mother's face. I remembered her smile, her eyes, her long, dark hair, but I could not see the entire picture anymore. It had been too long. "I was born in Cosmo," I said, "but I was raised in Kalm."

"Which of your parents were from the canyon?"

I turned to look at her. "My mother was a Cosmic native."

"She must have been very pretty," she said, and I grinned at her.

"She was."

"Not too dark, though," she joked, and I laughed. The cosmic natives were known for their dark hair and eyes, and their red-brown skin. My mother was a vivid example of their natural beauty. But I...

"I never did go out much," I said. "My mother wasn't very dark, but she was always darker than I was. I have my father's skin."

"Where's he from?"

"From a small village near Kalm. He met my mother while on an archaelogical dig in Cosmo. They got married and stayed there a while, then when I came along... well." Tifa's sudden interest kept me going somehow. I never did like talking about myself much, but she seemed to be enjoying it. I would have told her anything she asked of me, as long as her face continued to light up.

She raised one eyebrow, her smile playful. "Your father went on digs, and you didn't like to go outside?"

"Not during the day much, no." Our mouths seemed to widen at the same moment, each driven by the other. Oh, the others would have made some joke by now. "I never could tolerate heat very well," I explained. "A Turk gets used to all sorts of conditions, but that was always the hardest for me. Besides," I said, "a dig site isn't exactly a place for children."

Her smile turned wistful then, if only for a moment. "I guess I just figured like father, like son." Then her eyes began to dance. "I always pictured you as some athletic kid. I mean, I knew you were well-read, but I thought the reculsive thing was... new."

She looked a little lost then, and embarrassed at her choice of words, and I felt badly for her. I smiled to ease her discomfort. "I never had to work very hard to keep a good body image," I said, "but that doesn't necessarily mean in shape. To be honest, I was pretty easy-going."

Tifa snorted. "You?"

"Yes, me." I laughed. "I had a hard time adjusting to military life."

"I guess I had you pegged wrong," she said. "It was never easy to picture you as a kid, but then I thought, maybe you were one of those rich kids who went to a private school and did perfectly at everything because you had to."

"Do I really come off as being that miserable?"

She looked taken aback for a second, perhaps worried that she'd offended me. But then she caught the twitch of my mouth and slapped me on the shoulder. "Gods, Vince. Do you have any idea how much some people would kill for that kind of an education?"

But I _did_ know—I'd killed to earn mine, only after the fact. "Well, I wasn't rich," I said. "My father's work was funded by ShinRa, but that was later. And I wasn't privately educated. Not until the academy."

"What was that like?"

I frowned. "What was what like?"

"You know," she said. "Graduating from school, going on to do other things. I never graduated, so I'm curious."

"I never graduated, either."

"But you said—"

"I took an early out," I told her. "It was a ShinRa program—mostly for soldiers, but they made an exception. I finished my schooling there."

"So you did graduate," she reiterated.

"I got a pseudo-diploma, yes. But I'd already made up my mind about what I was going to do with my life, so it didn't matter much."

She narrowed her eyes at me. "Then why did you finish at all?"

Why, indeed? I was stumped. A Turk's job was more than secure—it was a prison, albeit one to which I'd freely assigned myself. Once there, the only other option was termination, and we went about that quite differently.

Quite differently.

"I suppose... to show myself that I could." I paused. "So that the previous years meant something."

"Then why not graduate with your friends? Why choose to give up on having any kind of social life already?"

I pursed my lips. Already, I knew Tifa was thinking I was crazy for throwing away the one thing she had missed out on. And I also knew that if I hadn't, my life would have turned out much differently. For certain, we wouldn't be sitting there, having our conversation. "It was a one-time only sort of deal," I said. "And I never could relate to many people. Although, if I'd had a friend like you back then, I might have stuck around."

"Might?" she repeated, a hint of false indignance in her voice. She grinned smartly up at me as she made herself comfortable against my side, pulling my arm up and around herself.

Well, of course. There was no need to remind me exactly how head-over-heels I was for her, even if the comment was purely innocent. She was merely falling back on an old routine, and I had no choice but to follow. "...Do you ever want to go back?"

"What, home?"

"No, school."

She shifted, and I resisted the urge to pull her into my lap. "I don't know. Sometimes I think about it, but it's been so long, I think I'd have a horrible time. Besides, I'm pretty set in my ways. I do miss home, though."

"Everybody does," I said, sighing. Heroes and villains were no exception. It didn't matter what we'd done or where we'd been, how strong we grew or what we'd accomplished. We would always be the same, at the very heart of things. "I wish we could do something about that, but we can't."

"Do you mean that?" she asked suddenly. "Would you go back if you could?"

I blinked. "To... what?"

"Would you go back if you could—thirty years ago. Would you do it?"

She wasn't looking at me then, but I could hear the uncertainty in her voice. It didn't matter that we weren't together; already I felt compelled. My answer was honest. "...No. I'm glad I'm here now. There isn't much sense in looking backwards; there's no way to know how things might have turned out if I'd done things differently. But I don't really feel the need to think on it anymore," I added, smiling a bit. "I like the life I have. In fact, I rather prefer it."

I met her questioning eyes when she turned around in my loose hold, and she looked... puzzled. And lost. "You wouldn't? Not even after everything you've—"

Tifa cut herself off there, and waited—impatient, behind those eyes—for me to confirm it. I leaned my head against the cushions. "No," I repeated. "I wouldn't."

There was a slight tremor in her, which I felt in her movement as she returned to her position on the couch, thinking. My admission had sobered her. Perhaps it was too much.

"Do you think that it is selfish of me?"

"No," she said, turning her head to the side and immediately taking the gesture back. Thoughtful, pensive. "No," she repeated, more to herself than to me. After a moment of silence, she spoke again. "But then, what did you mean?"

My eyes were starting to drift shut as I leaned against the back of the couch. I nearly began to stroke her arm with my hand, more for my own comfort than anything else, but I caught myself. "Hm," I said. "Remind me."

"You said you wished we could do something. About missing home."

"Well, everyone longs for that feeling." She shifted again and rested against my body, and I lifted my head to peer at her. "Familiar faces, sights and sounds. Family, and the people we grew up with. Everyone is looking for the place where they belong."

I tried to quell the uneasiness in my gut, knowing that Cloud was the only remnant of Tifa's childhood, whether or not they were close. Like myself, she had to build her own family out of the people that drifted in and out of her life. We had to decide for ourselves where we belonged.

I hoped she didn't take my words and pity my position. It wasn't her responsibility to give me that place. No, I didn't want that to be her burden.

"What do you miss the most about your home?"

"Hm," I smiled. "Family dinners. Even though my father wasn't there much, I miss being around the table with my sisters and my mother. Her cooking was to die for."

"You had sisters?" She sounded surprised. My smile grew.

"I had _five_ of them."

Her eyes were wide when she whipped about to look at me. "_Five_?"

I laughed quietly, lazily. "Five."

"What were their names?"

"Anna. Cecilia. Maria and Margaret, and Gina. Yuffie actually reminds me of Gina a bit."

"Does she now?" she asked, grinning.

"Yes," I sighed contentedly. "She was most annoying." Tifa sent a scolding look up at the smile forming on my face.

"I'm guessing you were the oldest, then."

I nodded.

"Gods," she said. "How on earth did she do it? I could never handle six kids."

"She had help. And there was a bit of an age gap between Cecilia and the twins, so we helped take care of each other when we got older."

Tifa shifted against my side, a pleasant sensation. "You know, it's funny how much and how little we know about each other."

"Mhm," I said, shifting back at her. "It seems like two different lives, really. Before—"

"I know what you mean." She sounded a bit wistful, but didn't give it much more thought. "So, tell me about your training."

I cracked a smile. "I would have to kill you, I'm afraid."

"Nah," she sang. "You said it was hard adjusting. How long did it take you?"

The smile grew. "I said it was a hard time, not a long one. I had someone there who knew very well how to put me in my place." Bastard enjoyed it, too.

"Lucky you," she snickered.

"Of course."

She was quiet for a moment, her head rising and falling atop my side as my breaths grew steady and relaxed. Simply content to be sharing the same space, but it was becoming increasingly hard for me. Regardless, I had made my choice to live with her decision and stay near, but that didn't mean I had to sit still in that stifling silence at that particular moment.

So, I broke the silence. "What is your favorite memory of home?"

"Climbing in the mountains," she said with a quiet fondness. "Sitting on top of a cliff-face and looking down on the town, and feeling... just so above all of the little things. I didn't have a care in the world up there."

"It sounds inspiring."

She nodded, and then was still. "I miss my parents, Vincent."

I had since accepted that I was not responsible for Sephiroth's madness, or Lucrecia's mistake. But I still would feel a pang of guilt whenever I heard or was reminded of the things that had happened because of the project. I was a Turk, you see—an enforcer of ShinRa's will. I was around before the company became what it was the day that Sephiroth went insane, and it was because of people like myself that it garnered the sort of power it did. We scouted for those brilliant minds that aided the heads of research—captured them by force, if necessary—we killed for knowledge and resources, funding and power, and rid ourselves of any competition. The monstrous entity known as the ShinRa Corporation was built on the shoulders of men like myself. I had personally disposed of those who opposed ShinRa's controversial agendas before; sometimes I knew why I was told to kill, and other times I did not. Back then, it didn't matter to me.

Not until I began to see the consequences of my actions unfolding in front of me, and so close to home. But by that time there were other things lurking beneath my skin—that, or the same old things had grown more fierce—itching to be let out. And I could not bear to watch. I had to go away.

But if I had told Tifa that I was sorry, even as anyone would if they were being sympathetic, she would tell me that it wasn't my fault. Not only that, but she would feel badly for bringing it up. So, instead I simply gave her frame a slight squeeze, casually wrapped in my arm as she had made herself.

Again, it didn't last long, but I wasn't going to press the issue. "How does this ghost hand of yours work?" she asked, sitting up a bit and looking down at my false appendage.

I let my eyes close. It was a grey sky that day—no rain yet, though. A day made for drowsing. "Nerve signals get crossed sometimes. Not often."

"You feel pain?"

"No." I was half-inclined to lean my head to rest atop her own, but I didn't think my neck would bend that way. "I feel things sometimes, if I remember what it was like to touch them. Or maybe if I've touched them with my right hand."

"Why only sometimes?"

"Because you have to catch me by surprise, before my brain can realize what is happening."

"Oh." A pause. "Vincent?"

"Mm."

"Vincent, are you going to sleep?"

One of my eyes opened the tiniest bit to peek out at her as she turned in my hold and craned her neck to look at me. For a second I thought she was inspecting my lashes, to see if they were really touching my cheeks. I closed it again. "I think that it's time to take you home now," I said, but didn't really feel like getting up on second thought. "Or you could stay here while I take a nap, if you don't mind it."

"Uh-oh," she teased. "What if I'm a snoop?"

I gave a small, content smile. "I don't own anything that isn't functional."

"Well, _that's_ no fun." She drummed her fingers against my artificial limb, and I felt it in the flesh above it. Her steady rhythm was interrupted by a sudden exclamation. "Oh, I just remembered!"

"What's that?"

"The bartending competition. It's scheduled next month from the twelfth to the fifteenth—I have to be there, because I'm registered as Yuffie's coach. I wanted to ask you if you would come."

Asking me to go out of town with her for a few days? I supposed we wouldn't really be alone, and with everything that Yuffie was undoubtedly signed up for, I didn't think it would be quality time. I was on the verge of saying yes anyway.

Until I remembered.

"I knew that date sounded—" I yawned. "Familiar."

"You can't come?"

"There's a new restaurant opening in town on the night of the twelfth," I explained. "My boss asked me to go and write a review. I might start doing more of those—" And another yawn. "It pays better, at least."

"Okay," she said, full of understanding, but I suspected she was a slight bit disappointed. "You'll go to see Marlene's play though, on the sixteenth, right?"

My mouth twitched in response. "Of course."

The room was very quiet then, and my thoughts began to blur along with the splotchy patterns behind my eyelids. Not a lot of light in that room, and I was nearly asleep when I felt a bare tug on my left shoulder. My eyes slowly opened, blinking back the sleep they fought against.

Tifa was sitting there in front of me, my left hand clasped in between her palms. Once she saw my entirely slow reaction, however, she let it fall to her lap. She wore a slightly bashful expression as she ran her fingers distractedly over the metal, avoiding my attention. I smiled at that, laying my head back against the cushions and closing my eyes once more.

"Nice try."

* * *

**Long-ass Note: **Sorry for the delay. Real life was beating me up pretty badly. I think that I am going to go back through this story and change some things—nothing huge, but I think I am going to change the conversation about Shelke in Chapter Two, and about Vincent's um, habits, in Chapter Four, and maybe some of the end of Chapter Ten. This fic will probably never be PG-13 again, and I fully intend to go with my original plans, but I think it's not so much what was said as _how_ it was said. That's how it usually is with Vincent. I think that just a few words switched around, and some changes in punctuation will completely alter Vincent's tone, and make him more like I had originally intended, as far as his characterization is concerned. I never really meant for him to get so soft. Real, yes—but his internal monologues are very 'Dear Diary' to me, now that I'm looking back at it. I've got their 'big moment' all figured out though. Yep. 

It's hard that way, writing in first person. You read it like they are the ones telling you a story, but when it comes to some of this subject matter, you have to think, "You know, I don't think he would ever just give us that information in a million years." This is why adult fanfiction (it happens more in yaoi than anything else, I think—which is doubly funny to me, because you know gay men aren't probably writing all that squishy description) written in first person cracks me up (usually—there is the occassional exception).

Also, I'm writing adult fanfiction if any of you are worried about missing out on things like that where this story is concerned. You'll find it in my writing journal (link in my profile) when it's done. If that makes you respect me less as an author, well too bad for me, I guess. You already know what I can do with age-appropriate material, and how I handle that. Also, the original chapters of this fic that get changed around will also be archived in there under the tag "obsolete drafts," so that if you want to revisit them, you still can.

I think that I am going to have to write an epic prequel concerning the Jenova Project, so that I can write more of my spin on what might have happened concerning Vincent, his relationships, his demons and what I think they actually are, etc. It would have to be really big though, and I'd probably stretch it from Grimoire to Before Crisis. Like ninety chapters, in three parts: Vincent's Turk days and his interactions with Veld and the team, Lucrecia, Hojo—Vincent's time spent in the lab, being locked away, Aeris' birth, Ifalna's escape—then the events of Before Crisis and the Nibelheim burning.

...But that's a long way off. Though I do have snippets on my hard drive and diskettes. I'm compulsive that way.

Oh, and yeah—Kalm and Cosmo, not Wutai. Because Vincent isn't pseudo-Asian, he's pseudo-Tuscan (Italia) and pseudo-American Native. Because he has an old-world European facial structure, and because I said so, and because I don't care what fanon dictates, or how it may or may not have affected Dirge. Nyah.

**Whew!**


	17. Miles Apart

**17**

**Miles Apart  
**

The restaurant's debut really was something to behold. The place was set up in a very large, very old house, which was gutted and outfitted with white-clothed tables. Such places should not have existed in Edge after Meteor—this one had been _transported_ from Kalm.

Yes, these things can and do happen.

The entire scene was lit by candlelight, low and pleasant, save for the kitchen and the meager lights above the bar on the far side of the house. Tifa would have been radiant in the calming flicker reflected in the glass of the window next to our table. I had wanted to bring her—there was no better excuse really, for an innocent and _formal_ night out with the woman of my dreams—but it was impossible, given her promise to the ninja.

Solid wood floors stretched from wall to wall, and as guests and staff alike crossed them, their steps left a hollow and resonating sound. They did not creak under the weight, but they were not intimately acquainted with the foundation of the building, and I found myself wondering what might lie between the fashioned material and the dirt below. A morbid curiousity perhaps, but this was nothing new. I'd always been in that frame of mind, even before.

By now, I do not think I have to explain what I mean by the word 'before'.

In all honesty, the interior reminded me a bit of ShinRa Manor—in design, not in size—after I had woken up to find it abandoned and everyone else gone. But in my fury, I had neglected to be kind with their drapecloths and fixtures. The manor's kitchen was completely destroyed, a stark contrast with the bustling, stainless steel room beyond those double doors. Its washrooms were shattered glass and crushed porcelain, unlike the floating candles and petals atop undisturbed waters in the vintage tub upstairs.

I never did have much self-control back then—but that was another life.

Instead, I watched with some amusement as the young woman across the table from me perused the menu, taking it all in with no small amount of fascination. Every now and then she would frown, and she would silently mouth the sounds to a word she didn't know, and it filled me with an odd sense of importance, thinking I might have found an almost comfortable role. She propped her elbow up on the table, and I grinned in the moment she caught herself, removing it to wind a finger in one of the glossy curls piled high atop her head.

She lifted her head and placed her finger on the plastic coverlet, turning the sheet around to face me. "What is... _pist-ow_?" she asked, mispronouncing the word in an unassuming manner.

I smiled, scanning my own menu. "_Pistou_," I answered, enunciating the last syllable, "is a basil and garlic sauce."

"Oh," she said. "Well, what is chever?"

I straightened my tie. Not quite, but close enough. "_Chèvre_, is goat cheese."

She made a face.

"Would you like me to order for you?"

My 'date' nodded, putting her menu to rest on the table. "But no goat cheese," she said shyly, as if it might be asking too much. I laughed in the affirmative.

"No goat cheese."

I browsed the wine list until I found something that looked appealing; a petít verdot. The grape was known for its color and aroma, but was usually lent to other blends in small quantities and almost never on its own. It was a rarity, and while most would say it couldn't hold up, the description promised a darkly rich, chocolate-currant flavor, smoky and with a long finish. I wanted to try it, despite the expense.

"What would you like to drink?" I asked.

She shrugged, pretending to look at the menu again. "There's too many choices."

"I'm going to have a glass of wine," I offered. "If you would like, I can order a sparkling cider for you. Or you can get something else. They have a frozen slurry at the bar, made from sorbét. I'll just tell them to not add the alcohol."

"That sounds good," she nodded. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," I smiled. "After all, our job is to try something from every area of the menu."

"Yeah?"

"Yes. We _have_ to."

She giggled. "Okay, then."

It was then that our waiter approached the table, bringing with him a pitcher of water, some crudités, and some tapenade. I ordered my wine and the lemon smoothie, along with some roasted almonds with honey and lemon thyme, because I thought she would like them, and because I thought we should have an appetizer. He was polite and professional in the way he addressed us and in the way he carried himself. I tried not to note these things too obviously, so as not to let on why I was there, but it made it all the more enjoyable. I felt like some kind of educated lurker. My father would have loved this sort of thing—my old partner would have loved this sort of thing. Either one of them would have been better at it than I—I briefly wondered if there might be a complex there, but didn't think on it for too long, as my phone began to vibrate once our server had retreated.

I felt a swift rush of simple gladness when I saw who it was. I flipped the phone open, careful to keep my voice low and mind my manners in the fancy bistro. "Tifa."

"Hi, Vincent," she said. "Ah... what are you up to?"

I smiled. "I am having dinner. You?"

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "That's right, I forgot. You're doing that thing tonight for the magazine."

"Yes. How goes the competition?"

"Well, I called to say that Yuffie placed third out of eight contestants today, so I guess that's pretty good. She did set a record," she laughed. "Most air-bound rotations in thirty seconds, or something like that. Anyways, whatever it was called, she's in the books now. She's very proud of it. You'll probably be hearing about it for the rest of your life."

"Godo would be proud," I joked. Chances were, he didn't even know where she was. My company mouthed the question as to who it was I was speaking with—or rather, whether or not it was who she thought it was—and I grinned back at her. "You may tell her that she has my congratulations."

"I'll do that," she said. "So... did you find a date?"

The uneasy pause and the tone of her voice was a dead giveaway, if I'd learned anything about her in all our time spent together, and I liked to think that I had. She had said that it was unfair of her to ask me to wait, but it was obvious to me that if I didn't, it wouldn't be so easy for her, helplessly caught in her indecision when she simply was not ready. And thusly, I couldn't help the ridiculous smile plastered to my face, even if it did make me feel like an idiot. "As a matter of fact, I did."

"Oh." She sounded disappointed. "Well, I don't want to interrupt..."

"Not at all," I said. "In fact, I think she would like to speak with you."

"What? Why? Vincent, I don't think that's a very good—"

But I handed my phone over before she could protest, and stunted, pink-polished fingers took it happily. "Tifa!"

I watched the animated conversation, arranging the items on the table as they were brought, and thanking the waiter. When it was over, my phone was returned to me, open and waiting.

"She wants to talk to you."

I put the receiver to my ear, a funny feeling of warmth spreading through my chest. "Tifa," I hummed.

"Vincent," she said sweetly, "you took Marlene. Gods, that was so wonderful of you. I bet this means a lot to her."

She also sounded a bit relieved. I tried not to be too happy with that knowledge, but I was. It was quite cruel of me to tease her, however. "Do you think?"

"Well, it's not every day a girl gets to dress up and go out on the town, or eat at a fancy place like that. Not to mention, she's on _your _arm."

I chuckled. "Perhaps."

"How does she look?"

"Like a china doll," I replied, smiling. "And pink. Very pink."

She laughed.

"Shera even put her hair up in curls." Barret would have been proud, to see her like that—proud, or infuriated. But I think that rather has to do with how he feels about _me_.

"Well, I bet she's enjoying herself."

"Hm, I would hope so." I paused. "After all, I turned down the opportunity to ask _Cid_."

"Oh, gods!" Her laughter grew in its intensity. "He's such a meat and potatoes kind of guy. I bet he wouldn't know what to do with himself. Although, I think I'd like to be there to see that one."

I hummed thoughtfully. "Perhaps another time?"

"All right." I could hear the lingering smile in her voice, that tone which kept my nerves in check around her. "Listen, I have to go now, but I'm glad I got to talk with you. I'll see you when I get back home, okay?"

"See you then. Goodbye, Tifa."

"Bye, Vincent."

Marlene and I shared a nice dinner of veau normande and coq au vin after that, followed by orange crépes flambé. She told me that she was learning multiplication in school, and so I taught her what a square root was and threw her some simple questions. She seemed genuinely excited to know something that her other classmates did not.

We went for a short walk after dinner, because she'd said she wanted to look at the crystalline animals she'd spotted in a shop window. Marlene was a well-behaved kid, and I didn't have to worry about her running off or breaking anything valuable, so I let her peruse the items for a while. On the way back to the parking lot, a street vendor asked me if I'd like to buy a rose for my daughter—there was no resemblance there, and I almost glanced around, wondering who else he might have been talking to—and I did buy her a pink one, not bothering to correct the man, because her eyes had lit up when she'd seen them.

She was quite the chatterbox really, once she got going. During the ride home, she must have prattled off a week's worth of conversation I would have with any normal person, talking about teachers, friends, projects and reports, not to mention the play that was coming up. In the end we arrived safely at the bar, and as I ushered her inside, she bounded over to where Shera was leaning against the counter, sharing a drink with Cid.

"Hey, kiddo!" he greeted her with a wave. "How was dinner?"

"Great!" she exclaimed in full force. "Look!" she said quickly, turning to Shera and handing her the flower. Shera held the bloom to her face and smiled adoringly, and I hoped I would not have to endure her fawning.

"It smells lovely," she said, stepping around behind the counter. "You know what we can do with that?"

Shera grabbed for an uncorked wine bottle from the back shelf—empty, but then Tifa sometimes kept odd things for strange reasons—and began to clean it in the sink.

"Here," she said, gently taking the rose again from the girl and snapping the base of the stem off. "This bottle is plenty tall enough, don't you think?"

Marlene nodded emphatically, admiring the display. "Thank you!"

It was no vase, but something about it was appealing. Not because flowers in wine bottles is a romantic concept; the neck of the bottle was a strange sort of elegant, and out of place in a good way. Sometimes odd thoughts like that come to me, and I do not know why.

Shera looked at her watch and yawned. "It's getting late. Run along and put it someplace safe," she told her, "and then get ready for bed. I'll be up to tuck you in soon."

"Okay," replied Marlene. "Night, Vincent!"

As she turned to go, taking the bottle with her, I had a thought. Surely, I wouldn't have expected Shera to know her way around the house, much less where Tifa might keep a vase, but I wondered. Had I ever seen flowers in Tifa's home?

I turned my attentions back to the bar and found Shera grinning at me. I rolled my eyes and scooted an aluminum tin across the bar top until it reached Cid's elbow. "There. I brought you something."

Cid grinned. "Animal, mineral or vegetable?"

"Why don't you find out?"

I walked behind the bar and slid the ice chest open, the metal lid reverberating with a loud shucking sound. "Still warm," Cid said from behind me, as I ran the tap and fixed myself a glass of water. "Real warm."

"It should be. They made it while we went for a walk. You will have to tell me how it is," I said, taking a sip from my glass.

He popped the lid open, and Shera peeked over his shoulder as she skirted around him. "Looks creamy." He frowned at the box. "What is it?"

"Just eat it."

I set my glass back down on the counter and took a seat, loosening my tie while Cid grabbed a set of silverware from the bin behind the bar and tested a bite with his fork. "'S good. Chewy, but it's good. What's in this?" Shera muffled a laugh behind her hand and stole the next bite from him.

"Roughly?" I asked, unable to hide my grin when he nodded. "Those would be snails."

Cid froze and his jaw went slack. Then Shera's fingers crawled their way up the back of his neck, and he shuddered away from her. "Oh, _gross_, Cid," she teased, stepping to him and nipping his jaw. "Maybe you should stop now and leave that for me." And with that, she snatched the fork from him and took another bite.

He frowned at me. "Y'don't say. Not bad, actually. But really, Vince, you din' hafta feed me an' the wife slimy critters."

"Stop it, Cid," Shera scolded. "I'm eating here." She then grabbed her purse and fished out some money, approaching me with it. "And honey, I asked him to pick it up when he left."

I waved her hand away, shaking my head and dismissing the money. She grabbed my hand and tried to place the money in it, but I pushed it away. In the end, she slapped my fingers and tucked the bills into my shirt pocket, finishing with a self-satisfied smile.

"I'm going upstairs to tuck Marlene into bed," she said, heading for the stairwell. "Save some of that," she nodded to Cid, laughing. "I know it'll be hard, but you'll just have to try."

Shera disappeared from view, and Cid studied the tin in front of him. "Are you going to eat it," I asked, "now that you know what it is?"

He grimaced and dipped the fork into the sauce, trying it again on his tongue uncertainly.

"It's not like the ones you find on the sidewalk, you know."

"Shaddup," he said, half-heartedly. "I'm tryin' somethin' here." I chuckled as Cid took another bite and paid very close attention to what was in his mouth. Then suddenly, he was trying to pay as little attention as possible, his face contorting into a most worried and queasy expression. "Can't do it. I'd rather have a steak."

"Then get yourself a steak," I jabbed, and then I reached across and placed the money Shera had given me in the front pocket of his work-shirt.

He didn't protest or even make mention of it, only poured himself another glass from the bottle on the counter and attempted to purge the memory of what had been in his mouth by washing away the taste. "Shaddup," he repeated, wincing at the burn and clearing his throat. "So tell me," he finally said after a moment of silence, "what's the deal with Tifa?"

I tilted my head. "What do you mean?"

"Are you seein' each other at all? Casually, I mean?"

"Like before?"

"So it's like that, huh?" Cid took the seat a couple down from me and swiveled around so he could prop his head against his hand and still make eye contact. "Nothin' more on her end? Because I could've swore—"

"She needs time, Cid."

"Right, right." He was silent for a moment, taking another sip of drink and mulling something over in his head. "...Y'know she's not like any other girl. This is big. This is _you_ an' _Tifa_."

I smiled sadly, barely. "I know."

"You gonna hang around like always, if she decides to move on without ya?"

The idea was painful. I'd told myself that yes, I would stay. I loved her, and she was my best friend, and I would always be there for her. But—what if the day came when she no longer needed me? I knew that she loved me in a lot of ways, in some of the ways that mattered most, but what if it became awkward for the both of us? I hadn't given it much thought other than telling myself I was determined to always be there. But what if—

What if the pain was actually too much to bear?

"I'll always be here," I affirmed. "But, I don't know. Maybe I would need to take a break or stay away for a little while." I sighed, turning my glass on the bar, condensation gliding against the smooth varnish. "Then again, I wouldn't want to make her feel like it was some kind of ultimatum, or a punishment. She needs to not feel obligated for once in her life."

"Shit, that sounds like break-up talk to me," he grunted, shifting in his seat and leaning an arm on the back of the chair. "You," he gestured, "are seriously invested in her. She couldn't 'ave missed it, not by a long-shot. She'd hafta be blind to not know what she was doin'."

"Does drunk and guilty count?"

"She'll come around, Vince." He nodded, as if to reassure himself. "She'll come around."

I frowned. "I don't want her to feel obligated," I repeated.

"No one's gonna make her," he said. "She's takin' time, ain't she? But I think... yeah. She's gonna come around. Maybe not right away—an' you should be prepared for that, 'cause you can't always be breathin' down her neck and knowin' who else is interested—but she'd have to be crazy to choose anyone else in the end, knowin' what she does about you."

"It doesn't matter, if she doesn't feel the same way."

"Bullshit," he said. "A woman doesn' just curl up next t'you for no reason. She doesn' spend all her free time with you, an' she certainly doesn' get hammered just so she can kiss ya. All that shit was _on purpose_, Valentine. She might be confused now, or even scared, but that doesn' change what I _saw_."

I didn't bother to ask him if he was sure about that, didn't have time to think about the countering, negative things to which I hadn't given enough thought and suddenly _feared_—Shera was already making her way back into the bar, having finished with the girl upstairs. Meanwhile, the wine from dinner and the water were getting the better of me, and I nodded to the two of them, amused as the petite woman resumed picking at the contents of the tin with the fork. "I'm going upstairs to use the washroom, and then I think I'm going to head home."

"All right," Shera said, offering Cid another bite of the food. He clamped his mouth shut and turned away, which earned him a snicker from his wife. "You know where it is."

I made my way up the stairs, the sounds of her teasing fading into the background. Past the children's room—they had their own bathroom which was connected to their living space—and past the den where Tifa and I had spent many a comfortable evening, was the topmost level of the house. This level had a very clean, very quiet sense of peace about it, despite more recent events. It reminded me of the calm _after_ a storm. I did not go through Tifa's room, but instead went to the washroom reserved for guests.

The mirrors, though the children had their own, were framed by bright, squiggly scrawls and stick-up decorations—other than that, the room was neat and tidy, and even smelled pleasant. Marlene's name was proudly displayed in disjointed loops along one side of the glass, presumably in some sort of wash-off gel. On the other side, an algebraic formula.

Clever.

I finished quickly and washed up, and I was almost to the door leading down into the bar when I heard a small voice call out to me. I stepped over to the half-open doorway on my right, peering into the darkened room. Marlene was sitting up in bed, looking after me.

"Vincent?" she repeated.

"Yes...?"

I stepped into the room, careful not to make so much noise as Denzel was asleep—but then I saw his empty bed and remembered that he had begun sleeping upstairs. Marlene adjusted herself on the mattress, bringing her knees up underneath the blanket she had tucked around her. I took it as an invitation to sit on the edge of the bed, but remained standing for a moment.

"Aren't you tired?" I asked. It was reasonably late for a girl so young, but her eyes showed not even the slightest indication of weariness.

Marlene smiled and set her chin atop her knees. "I wanted to say goodnight. And thank you."

I nodded. "You're welcome." I then noticed that her hair was still up in those stiff curls, and I gestured with my hand. "Are you going to sleep with those in?"

"I like them," she said, smile widening. "Are you going to visit us at Cloud's?"

I did sit down then, knowing that the innocent question might turn into a complicated discussion. The small twin mattress protested my slow weight as I settled in. "...No, I don't think so. But I'll be here when you get back."

"Why not?" she asked, and I could see that she was slightly disappointed. She had chosen to focus on the 'no,' instead of what came after it; but she was used to being told 'maybe' and 'later' and 'we'll see'. Used to being let down.

"Well," I started, picking and choosing my words carefully, "I think that Cloud would like to have that time with you to himself." Then, feeling the need to justify that, I added, "After all, he doesn't get to see you very often, does he?"

Almost immediately, I wanted to take those words back. I hadn't meant to make it sound quite that way, but I was afraid I'd already taken that first step towards bad-mouthing him—and unintentionally, of all things—which I'd promised myself I wouldn't do. But Marlene only wrinkled her face in thought. "I guess."

Maybe this would be better, I thought. Marlene had missed out on a lot of her childhood—though she might be shuffled around some more, at least Cloud would make sure that all of his time spent with her would really count for something. And it wouldn't kill me to learn something about bartending, I found myself thinking. I could take over on a slow night, and Tifa could spend some quality time with the kids.

"Do you still have your cape?"

My mouth twitched at the quick change in subject, and at the object of its focus; of course, it hung down in the back and fastened at the shoulders. She would call it that, though the image of myself in a cape was amusing in a... disconcerting kind of way. "I do still have my cloak, yes."

"Why don't you wear it anymore?" Her eyebrows were raised so high, a child-like exaggeration. I smiled.

"Well, because I don't need it anymore. I did once, but I haven't in a long time."

Marlene smiled back, as if she'd stumbled across a secret. "Because you're done fighting?"

"Yes."

"So you don't need it anymore. Like a secret identity, right?"

I was ready to laugh it off, to reply back with something in the negative. But then—it was like that, wasn't it? "I suppose you could say that."

"How many people know the real you?"

"Hm... not many." And I returned the conspiratorial smile. My eyes wandered a little to the left, and they caught sight of the bottled flower sitting on the nightstand by the window. Like a shock, it hit me—the bottle was one of ours, something split between us months ago, before we'd decided not to drink in each other's presence.

"Vincent?"

I shook it away. "Are you ready to sleep now?"

"Yeah, I guess," she sighed. I got up from the bed and straightened myself. "Are you coming to my play?" she asked as she shifted around beneath the covers, trying to get comfortable.

"I am," I said. "Now try to get some rest."

"Okay. Hey, Vincent?"

"Mm." I was half-way to the door.

"You should take Tifa to a restaurant."

She was smiling unabashedly then, and I wondered if anything in my expression gave me away. Tifa and I went out to dinner all the time. "You think so?"

"Yeah, I think she'd like it."

One side of my mouth turned up. "I'll keep that in mind, then. Goodnight, Marlene."

"Goodnight, Vincent."

I left the door in the position in which I'd found it, and returned downstairs where I bid my goodbye to Cid and Shera. The old man gave me a clap on the back, and his wife hugged me—something she didn't normally do. Which meant they had been talking.

Minutes away from home, it began to rain. When I reached my complex and went to head upstairs to my apartment, I discovered that the elevator wasn't working, and so I had to exit the garage and walk around to the front of the building in the rain. Once inside, I found that the entire building was out of power. With nothing else to do, I locked my door, made for my bedroom, stripped down to my bare skin and slid beneath the bed-covers.

I didn't go to sleep for a long while. All I could do was think about Tifa. I wondered if she was out with Yuffie that evening, or if she was already curled up in her foreign hotel bedroom. I wondered if she was thinking about me, like she'd said she sometimes did—or if she was wondering about me thinking about her. Maybe she was trying to _not_ think of me.

But this trip she'd taken, along with what Cid had said to me earlier, had made me realize that I _couldn't_ always be there. It wasn't just my waiting game—Tifa was trying to figure herself out, and there were enough ways to do that which were completely out of my control. Just standing around, wondering who else might step in, could drive a man _crazy_, could make him stop eating and working and anything else useful. That sort of thing could turn a man obsessive where he had no right to be.

If someone else did step in—even if she never intended for it to become anything more than an occasional dinner, or a friendship much like the one we'd had before it had been blown wide open—all of my affections and attentions would fade into the background and become less important, because she would inevitably see less and less of me. And I realized, while I didn't want to make her uncomfortable or pressure her in any way... gods, to do nothing after what had passed between us might as well be a step _backwards_. I could still lose her, and not because of one earth-shattering decision built upon months of suspense, but rather very slowly. Very _painfully_.

And that friendship we'd had, I'd begun to realize when Cid had said, 'So it's like that... nothing more,' had been quite something. He didn't even know that half of it, and it took his understatement to bring it back to my full attention. It had grown slowly over time, but we were so very unlike simple friends—he'd been right, about Tifa's unashamed gesturing. Would I want to see her that close with someone else?

Of course not. But what more could I do? And it _did_ feel like a break-up. Was this... how I had made Cloud feel?

I wanted her, more than anything. I wanted for her to come to me, to strip my senses bare and recolor every tiny thing in my world with the knowledge that it meant just that little bit more, that she wanted me, too. That she loved me—not just loved me, but in every way that I loved her—and nothing would ever be the same again, down to every shared breath.

Yes, I would fight for that. But Tifa already knew how I felt, where I stood. I could not make her choose me—and I had been patient for so many years that I had forgotten how to be the brash man I once was. Even if I rehashed my words, tried to better express them, none of that would matter if she found out that she didn't feel the same way. She wasn't yet mine—fighting for her now might as well be fighting against her, against the choice that she so deserved.

And though I wanted to believe that she _would_ be mine—maybe not now, and maybe not for a long time, but _someday_—there really was nothing more to be done.

* * *

_**Notes: **__Who's ready to see them get together? I know I am! Feedback s'much appreciated—and might influence which of my many projects gets precedence over the others, y'know? I think you'll like these next couple of chapters, tho'. Yes, I think so. :)_


	18. Full Circle

**18**

**Full Circle**

The night before Marlene's recital, I put in a call to Tifa's phone. It was late—she didn't answer. I just assumed she might be out; old habits die hard, and we were all light sleepers out of necessity. I left a message, hesitating, indecisive, telling her that I loved her.

It was probably not the best idea, not the way to go if I wanted to appear all right in the head and doing fine for a few days without her. It was also an unfortunate way to give and receive such information. But I felt her absence greatly, far more than I would have expected, and her being gone brought with it the realization that I might one day have to compete for her attentions.

I didn't want to pressure her, but I was beginning to fear that she was slipping away.

I firmly believe in the unfairness of comparing one relationship to another, but I was beginning to feel a bit ashamed. I had a history of moving too quickly, of smothering the objects of my affection—I was hot and cold, uncaring towards many and undying in my pursuit of only a few. When I crawled out of that tomb, I thought I would never experience that range of human emotion again.

But Tifa was unlike all the others. She was like coming home _after _the journey—as if there was a piece of myself I'd always carried with me, and she was the source I'd only just met. I didn't want that to go unsaid.

Of course that wasn't _exactly _what I said. I was already being ridiculous, possessive, _insane_. We'd been spending obscene amounts of time together; I couldn't let her come home to that. Regardless of her answer or when it came, I would have to keep myself in check. But all of that time spent—that ridiculously obscene, _insane _amount of time—was all the more reason why I thought of her as mine already. She would always be mine, in a way, even if that meant I had to settle for one way over the other. We _fit_, in a way that no one else did. And I wanted her to feel that, somehow.

Who knew who might approach her while she was gone? Tifa had already had her edges smoothed away and rubbed out in order to fit a role she wasn't entirely happy fulfilling. Now she was just beginning to get them back. How could I keep that from happening again? How could I protect her from her natural inclination to please without exerting some undue kind of control over her life which would only make me yet another beast to be conquered?

And so, I'd invited her out to spend some time with me after the play was over. It would give me an excuse to talk to her, to be with her for a while after not being with her for a few days when I could have very much enjoyed her presence. It would not be _the _time; I could only hope that my words would be better prepared when that time came.

She hadn't called back.

Since then, I'd been lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling and wasting away the time while I examined my wants and fears, the things I'd done and said and my motivations for each. Maybe I'd frightened her. Maybe I'd given her that undue pressure. Maybe she hadn't even checked her messages yet.

The one thing I knew she wouldn't do was misinterpret my meaning behind the word 'love'. Not after that night. Not after that discussion.

I'd hesitated before I'd said it, gathering my wits. Maybe she hadn't heard that part.

I felt like the same idiot rookie in need of approval. It was one of those things that needed to be said eventually, but which one wished didn't make him sound like a complete and utter fool when spoken aloud. There was no dignified way to say, 'I love you', when the response was uncertain. It's not a phrase one wants to hear accompanied by fear. But at the same time, it was not something I could ever _regret _saying to Tifa.

Besides, she already knew. It was only a matter of time before one of us brought it up.

Tifa and Yuffie were going to take a cab from the hangar and meet us at the school. Cid and Shera would be bringing the kids, and Yuffie was going back to Rocket Town with them when it was all over, to stay and help for a couple of days before she hitched a ride in the direction of Wutai. Cloud would be taking the kids for the entire next week, all the switching of bags and cars included. Barret couldn't make it—no one pushed too hard for an answer as to why.

I only hoped I wouldn't be making anyone too uncomfortable with my presence. I had already assured little Marlene that I would be at her show, and I knew that Tifa took it to heart when I'd done that. But in a situation where _I _was the problem, and the only clear deterrent was to stay near _Cloud_...

But perhaps I was thinking too much of myself.

The building was crowded, the parking lot full, but luckily Cid was a sore thumb on the front steps with his cigarette in hand. It wasn't too hard to find him again after parking, and I trudged up the steps to stand beside him. I received the standard hello—he held out his pack and offered me a light.

I shook my head, and he slipped the box back into his shirt pocket.

"Shit," he muttered. "I forgot."

"Not since I was younger than you," I replied, mouth twitching.

"Tch!" Cid stubbed the butt of his cigarette out in the can, snorting. "Man. I don't even _think _about that anymore. Y'know, you really don't act like the average... sixty-two—?"

"Twenty-nine."

"Shaddup."

Being around the smell didn't bother me at all, nor did it bring back any old cravings. Although...

"Shera's inside. The gals ain't here yet, so Cloud's keeping her an' Denzel company."

...there were times when I thought I might pick the old habit back up again. "Really."

"Now don't go bein' like that tonight—"

"What about Marlene?"

He was already puffing away heavily on the second. When did he light that? "She's backstage."

I felt over-dressed next to Cid, who wore a clean pair of jeans and a short-sleeved button-down to all special occasions. It was a casual, kid-friendly event, and I did stick out in my dress slacks and crisp shirt—standing next to Cid only made it worse. This theater was more or less a community center, and as I glanced beyond the glass doors, I realized it was also doubling as an art exhibit for the local schools, with pieces clearly ranging from all ages.

Cid's phone began to ring. He flicked his light into the tray and answered. "...Hey! What? Nah, nah... hang on a sec." He put his hand over the receiver and grinned. "It's _Tifa_."

I fought the urge to bruise his shoulder.

"Yeah, that figures. I'll swing around and pick you guys up."

"What happened?" I asked, once he'd hung up.

"Fuckin' driver," he snorted. "Drives 'em everywhere but where they need to go, pretendin' not to know. Runnin' up the meter, right? I mean, if you don't know where you're goin', transportation's not the way to be. So, Tifa and Yuffie, they just get out about a block away."

I chuckled. "Luggage and all? I can help, if you like."

"Nah. I'm gonna grab the truck and pick those two up before someone decides to get fresh. You're welcome to come along, but that's up t'you."

I thought about it. She was probably already stressed out as it was—she didn't need my face being the first thing she saw. "I'll wait here."

"Kay. Last I saw of Shera, she was... inside, in the hall on the left," he said, rubbing his head. "Wraps 'round both ways, so if you don't see her, you can catch her on the way back."

I nodded as he left, and ducked inside the lobby. There wasn't much of a change in temperature, but then the weather had been kind as of late. The place smelled of something familiar and not, like any office, the mixture of several nameless people milling about. I rolled up my sleeves, trying to appear casual.

The walls were an array of color, a back-splash for the foreign materials and displays. It was apparent, this wide spectrum of age, and also that age was no necessary indicator of talent.

Cloud was keeping Shera company, and so I was in no hurry to meet with them. I was the intruder here, the variable in the familial formula. I'd be amicable enough, but they could bump into me at their leisure.

And so I browsed around.

Ironically enough, the first person I knocked into—literally—was the one I was trying to put off meeting. I'd been drifting in and out of several rows of tables when there was a hard elbow at my back; Cloud and I both turned around to see who we had bumped.

"Vincent." He blinked at me. "...You're here."

Not surprised to see me, exactly. He was probably well aware of how much time I'd been spending around Tifa on my own, but it was still a question lingering. A challenge, perhaps? "Tifa asked me to come."

"Where is she?"

"Held up," I said, testing a smile, "by an unscrupulous driver. Cid went to go rescue the girls."

"...Huh." Cloud crossed his arms and shifted his weight curiously. "I'd have thought she'd be coming with you."

"No, I came on my own." What he meant was, why hadn't I gone to pick her up from the airport.

He only nodded, as if in a trance. I shrugged.

"Barret couldn't be here."

And then he smiled—a genuine smile lit with humor, as if he knew something I didn't. "You know, your being here isn't going to fool anyone into forgetting that he's not."

I frowned. "I'm not quite sure what you're getting at. Do you want me to go?"

"Would you, if I said yes?"

"Probably not."

His smile grew wider. "Good."

Something was very off about this situation. "Tifa and I are still not together."

"Whatever you say."

I was growing impatient. "Where are Denzel and Shera?"

He craned his neck, searching the crowd. "...There," he said, pointing to the far side of the room. There was a white-clothed table set up with coffee dispensers and refreshments. Denzel had just turned around, and Shera was occupied with her stirrer and styrofoam cup.

Cloud gave a meager wave and caught the boy's eye. When Shera had finished doctoring her coffee, they both made their way over.

"See?" he said lowly to me, as the two pushed their way passed the crowds. "The kids have plenty of support. Tifa didn't ask you here for them. Her only motive for asking you to be here is, _she wants you to be here_."

I didn't bother to correct him, to tell him that Marlene had also asked me to come. It didn't matter, because I would have come anyway.

_Wouldn't I have?_

"Vincent! You came, too." Even if it wasn't his night to shine, Denzel seemed to be having a fine time. I could really have had so many more problems, but he and I still got along for the most part. Of course, we'd never had to _deal _with anything yet. We were a long ways away from family dinners, or anything real...

"It's nice to see you again, Vincent." Shera sipped lightly on her hot beverage. "Is Cid outside, still?"

I nodded my greeting. "He should be back soon."

"Apparently there's a long story about a bad cabbie," amended Cloud.

"For crying out loud, "she chuckled. "And _Cid's _going to handle it?"

"I think they did," I said. "They just needed a ride."

"Ah."

"So," Cloud said, glancing at Denzel and then looking around, "show us where your class table is."

The boy pointed in a general direction, and the rest of us followed him blindly through the crowd. Eventually we stopped at one of the fewer longer tables reserved for the kids from the middle school, eyes wandering over the myriad of scattered items, some clearly recognizable and some not, until someone broke the relative silence.

"Oh! Look, Denzel. This one's yours."

We stopped near Shera and looked at the globular chunk of glass on the table, a black and gray-spackled glaze against the blinding blue-teal of the construction-paper table-top cover. One could tell it was supposed to be a uniform object, but it had turned out somewhat sad and lop-sided.

"What is it?" asked Cloud.

Shera elbowed him in the side, and Denzel frowned visibly. "It's an ash-tray," he said.

The technician in her blinked at it, considering. "I knew that," she then said, pertly. I myself managed to keep my oft wayward eyebrow from popping up—I've been told I don't know I'm doing it half the time. "But..." Shera continued, "why an ash-tray, dear?"

"Everyone was making something easy like that."

"I see."

"... You're not happy with it?" Another question from Cloud.

The boy shrugged, uncomfortable. "I don't do art, really."

"What do you like?"

I hadn't realized this question had come from myself until all three pairs of eyes were directed back at me. Denzel just shook out his hair and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Writing papers, mostly."

Cloud interjected before I could think of the proper response. "Vincent writes." I watched him purse his lips thoughtfully, hanging on what he might say next. "You could ask him about that."

"Yeah, maybe. That'd be cool." Denzel wasn't frowning anymore, though he didn't exactly perk up. Instead he gave a polite smile and continued walking with Shera through the displays. Cloud and I remained behind.

I caught his eye. _"What are you doing?" _I mouthed, barely audible words slipping through to him.

He smiled slightly, his voice almost as low and quiet. "Being nice."

_Stop it, _I wanted to say. _You know damn well things will never be like they were._

But I didn't. I bit my tongue. And not five seconds later, I heard familiar voices making their way down the hall.

"Oh. My. Gawd. He's _alive!_" I turned to see Yuffie rushing over, followed by a more demure and smiling Tifa. Yuffie embraced Cloud, grinning smugly from ear to ear. "Been a while, Spike! I'm never in town when you come to pick up the kids."

She was pouting by now, an exaggerated display, and Cloud gently pushed her away, smoothing out his clothes and returning the smile. "That's your fault. Not mine."

And it was true. As far as I knew, he'd made every effort to see the kids, just as he'd promised. His time was sparse, but he'd been spending it on the things that mattered most to him. I often wondered if Tifa would ever reconcile with him, if he only asked.

But he never did.

Yuffie slung her arm around his shoulders and began to walk down the aisle, waving animatedly at Denzel and Shera ahead. Tifa was by then at my elbow.

Gone was the threat of making a fool of myself in front of Cloud. Yet there was still time to ruin the evening. How to begin a conversation without seeming over-zealous?

"I got your message," she said, quietly.

Oh.

"I'm sorry I never returned your call. I... what you said, it made me think a lot. Not that I wasn't already. I mean, I just didn't think I should talk to you about it over the phone, you know?" She pulled her hair back absently and let it fall over one shoulder with a shrug and a genuine apology in her expression when she looked back at me. "Too impersonal."

...or was it, really? I admit, there had been several moments where I'd hoped she'd dropped her phone in a puddle. They could get along just fine with Yuffie's phone. The ninja was good at swiping things also, wasn't she? If I didn't already know that Tifa had received the message, that might have been plan 'b'.

No... no, not really.

She put her hand on my shoulder.

"I'm glad you came." Her hand stayed there, long enough that my body's natural response was to anticipate some following action—a squeeze of the arm, or her fingers running down my spine. How I wished. "After the show, we could walk around downtown, maybe. It would give us a chance to talk... and it's a nice night, don't you think?"

I nodded, swallowing my nervous breath. I was sure she saw the motion in my jaw. Making it through the first half of the night without jumping the gun was going to be nothing short of a miracle.

"Hey!" she exclaimed suddenly. "Is that Denzel's project?"

She was moving around my shoulder—fingers lingering, trailing, my body suddenly her pivot-point—towards the disfigured ash-bowl. "I knew it looked familiar." Her eyes roamed the contours of the finished product, drinking it in with nothing short of admiration. A mother's love—it speaks for itself.

"It's beautiful."

I'd known it before, really, but there is always that one, defining moment. As for the piece itself, it was not without a certain backwards charm, but it was hardly functional. The rim was crooked and hung low on one side, and the bowl was collapsing in on itself. "What do you have in mind for it?" I asked, genuinely interested.

"Oh, I don't know," she said, "but look how pretty it is. I'd hate to see it used as an ash-tray. I know that's what he said he was making, but it's so dark and distinguished. A vase, maybe?"

I furrowed my brow, but returned the smile. "I wouldn't count on its ability to retain water. In any case, it's not very tall."

"Orchids are short," she said. "And bright. Or I could put a candle in there."

One of those days, I would buy Tifa some flowers. Something bright and beautiful that she could sit in the sun and dry over the bar. Something appropriate for one of _those_ days.

The rest of the crowd seemed to be gathering at the end of the hall. Tifa hesitated at my elbow, then straightened herself and nodded to me, leading the way. I followed, my neglected hand reflexively stuffing itself into my pants-pocket. Yuffie waved to us from the door, then promptly ducked out of view, lost amongst the rest of the bodies that had come to an abrupt stop, blocking the entryway.

Once we'd wriggled our way through the mob, side-stepping around various intimate gatherings in the aisle, we descended down the right side of the auditorium to where the rest of our company waited.

I might have worried about the seating arrangements, if not for Shera the Wise. She grabbed me by my upper arm, not giving me the time, exclaiming in a thin whisper, "Over here!" I was shoved thereafter into the row of seats before anyone else had taken the opportunity, and Tifa was soon shooed in after me, followed by Shera and Cid.

Cloud and Yuffie were apparently caught up in some very good conversation, and so were left with the seats closest the aisle, whenever they decided to come around. Shera was a good woman. I didn't have to sit next to Cloud, nor did I have to endure Cid's comments or eyebrow waggling, not to mention his elbow in my side. Tifa didn't have to sit near Cloud or Yuffie, either. Of course, I had no idea how Tifa felt about being nearly half-isolated next to _me_.

Like children. The whole of it was just... _ridiculous_. And yet necessary. It was shameful, really.

The curtain rose and fell in what seemed like no time at all. The event went off without a hitch—and the music was quite enjoyable, really. No one who didn't know would have been able to tell that it was the high school orchestra. Cid brought a cam-corder with him so that Barret could view his daughter's debut later on. And though Marlene wasn't the lead, she did execute her part with _quite _a bit of flair and enthusiasm.

"Cloud! Did you see? I was the wind!"

Cid snorted roughly beside me. I tried to stifle my grin and shot him a glare, but he was grinning himself, ear to ear, eyes laughing. It was just as well; my best glare at the time was really nothing to balk at. Shera elbowed him in the ribs, and I ceased holding my expression in check.

"I did see, Marlene." Cloud bent down and accepted her hug, adjusting the drape of one roomy sleeve on her costume. "You did a really great job."

The little girl was beaming, happy to have done well, happy to have everyone gathered together around her. I felt a light touch ghost its way down my sleeve, and Tifa left my side—yes, she'd remained nearby afterwards—followed by Denzel. I was as startled as he when Marlene about pounced on him.

"Haha!" she shouted, hugging him tightly. "You had to come."

The boy's shoulders slumped, and he adopted a tone one could only call 'tiredly amused'. "I didn't _have _to."

"Yes, you did," she grinned, pulling back to tease him. "Are you embarrassed, walking around with all the grown-ups? Huh?"

"Stop that."

Marlene was becoming a bit of a smart-alec around Denzel lately. Tifa had thought she understood it—Marlene was feeling a bit left behind, like he was pulling away from her—but I had my own ideas as to why. She released him from the embrace, but kept her hold on his arm. "What did you think?"

In an attempt to humor her, he put on his best face and feigned thoughtful consideration. "Well..."

"Den_zel!_" she whined.

He grinned. "You were good."

"Thank you." She wrapped her other arm awkwardly around my waist without letting go of him. I raised a curious eyebrow at her. "Vincent," she said, looking up at me, "I'm glad you came."

"I said that I would." I felt Cloud's eyes on me then. I tried to ignore them, and hid my discomfort with a genial smile. I had made a promise and kept it. This, however, was unbeknownst to Tifa, and didn't have any bearing on why she had asked me there. He was right.

Marlene smiled back at me. "And you did! Thanks."

I saw that Tifa was eyeing me with some strange kind of wonder—well, I must have been looking at her—and I simply shrugged as Marlene released me and dragged Denzel away. I'm not sure what they were talking about. I'd stopped paying attention.

I couldn't tell what was in her eyes. I was afraid to look for too long, but I couldn't help myself.

Luckily, Cid interrupted, cutting off my 'public moment'. "... Well? Let's get this shit switched up!"

In the parking lot, Cloud brought his four-door around to the back end of Cid's truck. In my opinion it was a piece of junk, unlike his bike, but it brought with it a certain pang of longing for my old GT. In any case, the important thing was that the kids could both ride in it safely. Cloud popped the trunk, and Cid helped the kids grab their bags out of the bed.

"Do you mind if I put my things in your car, Vincent?" Tifa asked me.

"That's fine," I said. "I'll give you a ride back later."

"Later?"

Tifa turned her attention on Cid, who hefted Marlene's white and pink-lined suitcase into the trunk. "I thought Vincent and I would hang around the district for an hour or two."

"Oh, _really_."

I hoped the glare I was sending him was better than the last sorry attempt. Unfazed, he just grinned and shook his head, turning away. "Have fun, kids!" He waved over his shoulder, the gesture complimented by Shera's and Yuffie's goodbyes as they also climbed into the truck.

Denzel and Marlene waved and shouted their farewells. Both rushed over and gave Tifa due hugs, and Marlene wrapped her arms about my waist. I let my hand rest on her back, but did not stoop down to display affection for either of the children. A quick look around probably would have revealed Cloud's eyes in the side-mirror anyways, and I got a sudden flashback to that night in the Forgotten City, and the hurt etched onto his face. Children didn't need concern themselves with the problems of adults any further than they were affected by them.

"See you later!"

Denzel hopped into the back of the car, followed by Marlene, grinning cheerily. I stayed behind while Tifa made her way over to the driver's side. I didn't try terribly hard not to listen. Some things never change.

"Anything exciting planned?"

"Oh, I don't know. I figured I'd just play it by ear. You don't have any ideas, do you?"

Tifa smiled knowingly. "Take them to a movie."

"They're not going to want to see the same movie, are they?"

"Then go to a race."

"Those are pretty boring, even for me. It's different when you're not on the track."

Tifa narrowed her eyes at the blond. "I'm sure you'll think of something."

He didn't sound very sure. It was the first time he would have the kids for an entire week. I was used to seeing Cloud at a loss, but not when it came to the children. Honestly, I didn't know what I'd do with them in all that time, either.

"Remember," she chided, in a sing-song manner, "this is about them. Not about you." She tapped the roof of the car, as if sending a chocobo on its way. "Have fun!"

As if in dutiful obedience, I heard the gears shift in response, and Tifa stepped away from the car as Cloud backed it into reverse. Soon we were all alone in the parking lot, the sounds of laughter and chatter and car doors slamming drifting in and out of the background, but for the most part, left to ourselves. I tried to muster up some courage.

Up above, the skies were a deep, dark blue, shot through with radiant purple hues and clouds of an even darker blue. I'd say that it was going to rain, if I didn't feel such a strong wind blowing through and see faintly that it was carrying the threat in another direction. If only all things were that easy.

I breathed in an unsteady breath, and let it out slowly. Gently, I lowered my eyes to meet my company; Tifa wore a soft smile, and I was sure there was a glimmer of understanding—of _knowing_—in her gaze, despite the lack of light.

She held out her hand to me.

* * *

**Notes: **So the site's revamp obliterated my scene divisions again, so that I have to manually go back and proofread the entire story. I guess I had it coming, disappearing like that. Nevertheless, I'm doing some revisions on this piece. The overall content will be the same as it was, but I feel I need to adjust Vincent's voice, and the language of the fic, to refine the flow of the story, and for the sake of consistency, since it's been a while since I picked it up. Also, I might need to find it a new title. Agapé seems suddenly so pretentious for what I have going on here.

I will be toning down chapter ten. I want to bring the rating back down to 'T', so that others can enjoy it. If you want to cling to the original, feel free to download it—like usual, just don't distribute it or steal it. I've had so many problems with people using my name even, and had them tag their names onto my stories (like on Quizilla, ugh), it's absurd. And hurry, because I'm going to start editing this in the next week or so.

You guys are going to kill me, but... I've had up to about 'A quick look around probably would have revealed Cloud's eyes in the side-mirror' written for probably a half a year to a year now. I just didn't know how to end it, and every time I picked it up I just ended up rewriting what I already had. This time, I just refused to go back.

*ducks*

Okay, next chapter! No, really!


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